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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30116952">What You See You Might Not Get</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenaballena/pseuds/lenaballena'>lenaballena</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sparring as foreplay, author's tenuous knowledge of human anatomy basic first aid and scifi physics, every star trek trope i could reasonably fit and then a couple more for good measure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:15:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30116952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenaballena/pseuds/lenaballena</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Starfleet Au; five things Zuko learned about Sokka, and one thing Sokka already knew about Zuko.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Koi’s atla fic recs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What You See You Might Not Get</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this... got away from me</p><p>written for zukka week 2021! fitting the 5+1, hurt/comfort, and free space prompts &amp; you don't need to know much about star trek to read this, i'm pretty sure it translates even if you don't know anything about the star trek universe, but i did try to throw in some direct refs here and there</p><p>ex: title from 'sabotage' by the beastie boys</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>1</b>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Zuko already knows Sokka fairly well, by the first time he meets him.</p><p class="p2">His first year (and Sokka’s final year) at the Academy, Zuko and a couple hundred other cadets bear witness to the disciplinary hearing in which Sokka, and three other cadets, are hauled up in front of the academic honesty board. All four are put on academic suspension, so it’s a little surprising when the next year, Sokka’s the TA for both Zuko’s Advanced Warp Mechanics <em>and</em> Federation Literature classes.</p><p class="p2">(The first day of class for each course, Sokka’d sauntered in and projected his name in big letters on the holo boards, complete with an eye-sore of a transition effect.</p><p class="p2">In AWM, he’d surveyed them all from the front of the class, atop the lecturer’s table.</p><p class="p2">“You can all call me Sokka, and I’m the one who’s gonna make sure you don’t die of boredom this semester.” He’d happily called. “I’ve sent you all a copy of the syllabus to your PADDs, and a video of a cute hybrid animal to everyone who’s enrolled in Helm Operations or Galacta Two, ‘cause you could all use a break after the intro week you’re having.” He’d done a little leap down from the table, and as the holoboards shifted to talking points on the syllabus, he’d looked back at the rows of students, over his shoulder.</p><p class="p2">“And before anyone asks, yes, I am <em>that</em> Sokka.” He’d said, with an unbearable smugness that had rankled at a point somewhere between Zuko’s shoulder-blades. “Whatever you’ve heard about me, it’s true. Except that thing with Admiral Pakku, that was <em>pure</em> Katara.”)</p><p class="p2">He doesn’t know... anything about Sokka, personally, besides all that, but he does know his name (which is more than he can say for most of his fellow cadets) and sees him six times a week.</p><p class="p2">This comes in handy when they actually meet properly, three months into Zuko’s second year.</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s staggering through an alleyway, fresh off a bar fight he didn’t start but sure as fuck finished, when a figure staggers out of a backdoor and into the alley, no more than twenty feet away from Zuko. Half shrouded in darkness, he kicks at one of the autobins, and then curses, most likely because those things are built more solid than concrete. The only way out of the alley is in the guy’s direction, so Zuko steels himself, and drags his feet forward.</p><p class="p2">The guy tenses as Zuko nears, raises his fists close to his chest, before he gets close enough for Zuko to… recognise him.</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Sokka exhales, features softening as he falls back, against the wall of whatever bar he’s just come out of. Strands of hair, freed from their tie, fall into his face, accenting its lines and curves. “It’s you.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s lived a life that means there are precious few new experiences left to him; his presence <em>relaxing</em> someone, though- he can’t imagine that’s ever happened before.</p><p class="p2">“Sokka.” The word feels strange on his tongue. Zuko frowns, taking in the view. Sokka’s still in his faculty greys, looking for all the world like he’s just stumbled out of a Starfleet brochure, not the backdoor of a bar. The single point of dishevelment is at his neck; the high collar of his shirt is unzipped, exposing a sliver of sweat-slick skin. “What are you doing out here?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka shrugs, looks up into the night sky. “Looking for a fight, I guess.” He answers honestly, and simply.</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Zuko blinks; not what he was expecting. “I found one.” He says, for some reason.</p><p class="p2">“Apparently.” Sokka grins back at him, looking him up and down with a searching gaze. “Your nose is bleeding pretty bad, dude.”</p><p class="p2">“Is it?” Zuko touches the underside of his nose, warm and slick, and when he pulls his fingers away, they’re stained a deep red. “Fuck.” He rolls his eyes as he leans his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose.</p><p class="p2">“Tilt your head forward.”</p><p class="p2">“Wha’?” Zuko looks back over at him.</p><p class="p2">“If you tilt your head back when your nose is bleeding you risk choking on your own blood.” Sokka shrugs. “My sister’s a doctor.”</p><p class="p2">“I’ll geb blub ob my shirb.” Zuko says, efficiently losing what’s left of his dignity in one fell swoop.</p><p class="p2">Sokka raises an eyebrow, grinning at him. “You’ve already got blood on your shirt.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko considers it. “Fai’ enough.” He leans forward, letting the blood drip out. Something beige enters his field of vision, and he looks up to see a napkin, held between two steady fingers. “Thanks.”</p><p class="p2">“Don’t mention it.”</p><p class="p2">And then, for no apparent reason, Sokka just… stands there. As Zuko mops up the blood, and stems the flow from his nose, Sokka is motionless.</p><p class="p2">He stops looking at Zuko and starts looking at up the sky, but he doesn’t make any further moves to leave the alley they’ve found each other in. Sokka watches the stars, and Zuko watches him. Takes in the way the artificial light mixes with moonlight, giving his skin a pale blue glow. And Zuko… doesn’t move to leave either. He has no idea why.</p><p class="p2">Finally, Zuko asks, “Why were you looking for a fight?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka’s head rolls back down to give Zuko a look that’s much too knowing. “Why were <em>you</em>?”</p><p class="p2">“I wasn’t.” Zuko lies. “They just find me, sometimes.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka gives him a look like he knows full well that Zuko is lying, but for whatever reason has decided not to call him out on it.</p><p class="p2">“I could- um.” Zuko clears his throat. “I’ve still got some energy to burn off, if you were still looking.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka flinches, almost imperceptibly, away, but the slope of his lips turns up into a smirk. “You’re asking me if I wanna fight you?” He says, holding a slight emphasis on the ‘f’ in fight, like he’d meant to say something else, but changed directions at the last minute.</p><p class="p2">Zuko shrugs, trying to seem casual as his brain, a second too late, realises that it’d be a terminally stupid idea to fight his TA. “Well, if you want. Um, I’m taking Hand to Hand Two, so.”</p><p class="p2">“…yeah, I know.” Sokka says slowly, obviously amused.</p><p class="p2">He startles, a little, at that. “You do?”</p><p class="p2">“You’re in two of my second-year electives. H to H two is a required course for second years.” Sokka grins. “I only graduated last year, y’know.”</p><p class="p2">“Right, yeah- of course.” Zuko nods, feeling his face, for some reason, warming against the cool night air. ‘I’m, uh. Considered to be pretty good at, um, hand to hand so I think- I think I can take you.” Which, in his head, had sounded like a reassurance that he won’t be filing a complaint after a more experienced fighter breaks his arm in an alley fight, but out loud sounds like… a challenge.</p><p class="p2">The eyebrow is up again, adding to the smirk. “Is that so?” Sokka chuckles, shaking his head. “Listen, dude, not that I’m not flattered, but there are like, twenty different reasons I can’t-” He takes a step closer to Zuko, hand outstretched, and Zuko, skin still buzzing from earlier, shifts his weight into a defensive position instinctively. Sokka blinks at him, for a second. “Wait, you’re actually offering to fight me?”</p><p class="p2">“I- yeah?” Zuko says, arms sagging a little in his confusion as he frowns at Sokka. “What did you think I was offering?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka lets out a relieved exhale, head dipping down. “<em>Wow</em>, okay, I thought you were just really bad at- uh.” He cuts off, looking back up at Zuko. “Nothing? Um.” He seems to consider something for a few seconds. “I… guess there’s nothing in the regs against a little practice sparring, and with phys ed finals coming up…” He trails off, obviously considering it, before looking back at Zuko with a mischievous smirk. “I know just the place.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">‘The place’ is just a gym in the Athletic Compound, high up on the twelfth floor, that Sokka uses his special clearance to get them into. ‘For post-grads only’ Sokka says with a wink, as he keys in his access code, but for all the restrictions, it’s really just… a gym. Standard issue mats on the floor, water dispensers at all access points.</p><p class="p2">As Sokka pillages the equipment stores, looking for protective wraps for their wrists and knuckles, Zuko stands in the middle of the floor and questions his own sanity. He’s in a restricted gym, about to physically fight a superior, in the middle of the night. Now that the adrenaline buzz of a fight cut short by bar security has faded somewhat, he has no idea why.</p><p class="p2">“Found ‘em!” Calls Sokka, and when Zuko turns, his vision narrows to Sokka’s torso and arms, because Sokka has, evidently, shed his overshirt and all that’s left is the standard issue white tank, and miles of warm brown muscle underneath. Sokka’s smiling at him, soft with just a spark of mischief, the hint of a challenge, behind it.</p><p class="p2">Well fuck.</p><p class="p2">That… would be why.</p><p class="p2">It’s not the first time Zuko’d done something firmly beyond the realms of sanity for a pretty face, but he’d thought he’d at least gotten <em>better</em> at recognising moments when it wasn’t his brain doing the thinking.</p><p class="p2">Sokka tosses him the protective gear, and Zuko catches it on pure reflex, as he stares back at him.</p><p class="p2">“So, Zuko,” Sokka smiles, as he wraps his wrist, and there’s another reason. Zuko doesn’t exactly have any friends, at the Academy. He’s made no attempt to make any. And there’s something… about the way Sokka smiles at him. Like he’s happy to be spending time with Zuko. It’s been a long time since anyone’s enjoyed spending time with him. “You ready to put your money where your mouth is?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko tries to look quite literally anywhere but at Sokka’s mouth. “Ground rules?”</p><p class="p2">“No cheap shots, and don’t kill me.” They’ve started to circle each other, slowly. Sokka uses his teeth to tug the wrap tight around his right wrist.</p><p class="p2">Zuko blinks. “That’s it?” He was honestly expecting Sokka to request that Zuko avoid fucking up his pretty face. He seems the type to care about things like that.</p><p class="p2">“Unless you have something to add?” Sokka teases with an easy grin.</p><p class="p2">“No, works for me.” Zuko stretches each of his arms across his chest for a moment, rolls his neck and shoulders. He sets into his knees, ready for a fight.</p><p class="p2">Sokka swings first, just controlled enough Zuko can tell he’s testing the waters, seeing what Zuko’s capable of. Zuko ducks under his fist, swings up to brace Sokka’s arm in a hold and aims a punch at his side. He pulls it, but sees the way Sokka’s eyes light up at Zuko’s technique.</p><p class="p2">Still holding Sokka’s arm in place, Zuko leans in. “Don’t hold back on my account.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka grins. “Alright,” he says, and in one swift motion, twists his arm out of Zuko’s hold, braces it around Zuko’s shoulders, and twists, shoving him down. Zuko’s stance isn’t fixed, his body’s in the wrong position, so it easily succumbs to Sokka’s motion and turns, off balance, until Zuko falls onto his back with a heavy thud against the mat.Sokka smirks down at him, “Noted, cadet.”</p><p class="p2">With a little wheeze, Zuko rolls back into a standing position, and doesn’t hesitate, or give warning, he just swings at Sokka’s face. They exchange a set of blows, and blocks, Zuko waiting for an opening as Sokka slowly advances on him. Finally, he gets it, and kicks Sokka in the chest.</p><p class="p2">Sokka’s body shifts backwards, absorbing the blow, and he catches Zuko’s leg in his hands with a look that says he gave Zuko the opening on purpose. Sokka uses his hold on his leg to flip him easily, and Zuko is slamming onto his back, on the floor, again.</p><p class="p2">“You seem out of practice.” Sokka says, from above him. “Your technique is… <em>perfect</em>, but you broadcast every hit. Maybe we should take things a little sl-”</p><p class="p2">Zuko spins, kicking Sokka’s legs out from under him, then uses his right knee to flip Sokka onto his stomach, twisting Sokka’s right wrist behind his back and digging his left knee into his spine. Zuko holds him there, facedown on the mat. “Oh, sorry, I interrupted you. You were saying?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka, face pressed down, mutters something unintelligible into the vinyl.</p><p class="p2">Zuko leans down, until he knows Sokka must feel his breath against his neck. His lips brush against Sokka’s ear as he says, “I didn’t catch that.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka’s left arm comes back, and elbows Zuko in the side of the head. Zuko recoils, falling back, and Sokka rolls out of his hold, stopping in a crouch a couple feet away from him. “I <em>said</em>,” Sokka says, with a smirk. “Point taken.”</p><p class="p2">They both rise, slowly, to their feet, and start again.</p><p class="p2">It’s interesting, how evenly matched they are. Zuko is bulkier, and tends to throw his weight both into his fighting and as a fighting style in and of itself. He’s always been partial to spinning attacks; more momentum, harder impact. Sokka, on the other hand, is taller, and leaner, and tends more towards the defensive than offensive. When Zuko spins into a hit, Sokka catches it, makes him keep spinning until he’s flat on the floor. He’s smooth like a rolling wave, and uses Zuko’s weight and momentum against him. It’s interesting; for all his male bravado, his fighting style is <em>distinctly </em>female.</p><p class="p2">Zuko gets a shot in to Sokka’s gut, and while Sokka’s bent over with the impact of it, Zuko leaps at and around him, using his shoulders for leverage as he kicks his legs up, parallel to the ground. He twists, right arm still locked around Sokka’s shoulder, and flips Sokka, head first, over Zuko and onto his back.</p><p class="p2">He kneels, breathing heavily, as Sokka wheezes from the floor, wind knocked out of him. “You’re gonna-” Sokka coughs, “have to teach me that one.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko smirks down at him. “Need a minute?”</p><p class="p2">“Yes please.”</p><p class="p2">After a second, Zuko extends a hand, and Sokka accepts it, allows Zuko to help him up.</p><p class="p2">They stand, across from each other on the mat, catching their breath. “You’re good.” Zuko says, finally.</p><p class="p2">“You’re better.” Sokka responds simply, rolling his neck. “Seriously, how many disciplines have you mastered?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko shrugs. “Enough.” He exhales, slowly, watches as Sokka chuckles wearily. “You’re not getting tired already, are you?”</p><p class="p2">Scoffing, Sokka levels him with a look. “Why don’t you land a hit that’ll actually leave a mark, and then you can ask me that.”</p><p class="p2">Something shifts in the air, then. Before, they had been testing each other’s skill, getting a feel for style, and technique. Zuko swings at Sokka, and the playfulness, the exploratory mood, disappears.</p><p class="p2">Sokka ducks it, and kicks Zuko in the chest. The switch is flipped; they don’t bother with technique, or finesse. Sokka stops showing off, Zuko stops trying to prove anything. They aim to hurt, not impress.</p><p class="p2">Once they get going, the blood in Zuko’s ears takes over. That energy that had him bare-knuckle brawling in his civvies in some piece of shit bar, that had been settling in his gut without a point of release, boils back up to the surface. Zuko doesn’t pull a single punch.</p><p class="p2">He’s pretty sure he breaks Sokka’s nose.</p><p class="p2">Sokka, however, just takes a single staggering step backward, touching the stream of blood that flows from his right nostril, over the full pink bow of his top lip, to drip into his mouth and darken his teeth. Zuko watches it flow, feels a foreign urge to lick it away. Which is… a disgusting impulse.</p><p class="p2">He shakes himself, clearing a little of the fog that’s descended in his head. “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka spits out blood, splattering dark against the blue mats. “Fine. Hit me again.”</p><p class="p2">It occurs to Zuko, then, that he hasn’t even tried to understand why Sokka, a post-graduate Teacher’s Assistant, is here, in the middle of the night, bare-knuckle fighting a cadet like he wants it to hurt. He shrugs off the curiosity, and aims his left fist directly at Sokka’s temple.</p><p class="p2">Sokka blocks it easily with one arm, and Zuko punches again, with his right. Sokka catches that one, braces it against his chest. His left arm comes around, grabs Zuko’s hand and uses it to spin him into a headlock, then flip him onto the floor.</p><p class="p2">Zuko rolls out before Sokka can get a hold, twists his body and Sokka’s arm until he can get him into a lock, leg across Sokka’s throat. He lets Sokka roll out of his hold, and they get to their feet, and then they’re going again.</p><p class="p2">Sokka is everywhere, moving against and with and beside him. Barely a second passes without a part of their bodies touching.</p><p class="p2">They kick, and jab, and flip, and roll, without pause, without restraint.</p><p class="p2">Zuko elbows Sokka directly in the face, Sokka lands a throat punch that Zuko’s gonna feel for <em>days</em>.</p><p class="p2">They both gain the upper hand, time after time, but neither presses it. They let each other slip out of holds, give each other that split second of relief to get back to their feet, prolonging the fight over, and over, again.</p><p class="p2">Finally, Zuko puts his whole body into a spinning kick, hooks his knee over Sokka’s shoulder, flips him onto the floor. They both roll away from each other, breathing harshly, Sokka lunged into a ready position on one knee, Zuko crouched with one arm braced on the floor.</p><p class="p2">Their eyes meet, and Sokka <em>laughs</em>.</p><p class="p2">It’s breathy, and satisfied, and the noise breaks Zuko out of the adrenaline haze.</p><p class="p2">There’s blood under Sokka’s nose, and a split in his eyebrow, and a bruise darkening his cheekbone that will look horrendous come the morning. Zuko’s pretty sure at least one of his ribs is broken, his ears are ringing like he might have a concussion, and there’s a gash in his lip he can’t seem to stop worrying with his tongue.</p><p class="p2">And, fuck, it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders he hadn’t even known he was carrying.</p><p class="p2">Sokka makes a deep noise of contentment, and his head lolls to the side, dragging his body down with it as he flops down onto his back. He pats next to him, twice, and Zuko, too exhausted to think about it, lies down next to him. </p><p class="p2">“Wanna know why I picked this gym?” Sokka says, a heavy strum of satisfaction in his voice.</p><p class="p2">Zuko gives a halfway curious hum.</p><p class="p2">“Computer, lights and ceiling to zero.”</p><p class="p2">The room goes dark, and the unremarkable ceiling they had been looking up into fades, no longer blocking the view of the starry skies over San Francisco.</p><p class="p2">“…wow.”</p><p class="p2">“I know.” Sokka breathes out. “I never get tired of looking at them, either.”</p><p class="p2">The two of them lie on the mats, looking out into space, in a room that’s silent except for their twin heavy breaths. And then even those fade into quiet. There's just something about the stars; the vast, endless expanse of the universe. Zuko feels so peacefully insignificant; the stars don't care who he is, what he's done. They don't expect anything from him.</p><p class="p2">Minutes go by like that before Sokka speaks again.</p><p class="p2">“I tried to have you excused from class.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko is too tired to react properly to the words, which are both unexpected and make absolutely no sense. For a second he thinks he’s imagined Sokka said anything at all, but when he turns Sokka’s already looking at him, waiting for a response. “Wait, what?”</p><p class="p2">“Today. Fed Lit.” Sokka inhales. “I looked at your transcripts, saw you took RET last year? I made some shit up about it already covering the material so you wouldn’t get anything from the lesson. I figured Professor Lewis wouldn’t know what the RET syllabus was, thought it might work.” He sighs, long and slow, as Zuko gapes at him. “<em>Unfortunately</em>, Professor Lewis is an asshole, and didn’t even consider it. Going over his head didn’t do jackshit, either.”</p><p class="p2">“I- okay.” Zuko is, if possible, more confused. Remedial Empathy Training, or RET, is an elective course for students whose species biology makes it difficult for them to understand or function within the terms of Starfleet’s morality guidelines. Zuko, as the son of a warmonger, is one of seven humans in the history of the Academy for whom it’d been a required course. He’d checked.</p><p class="p2">But it also… never overlapped with anything they’ve covered in Federation Literature.</p><p class="p2">Sokka huffs. “You should never have had to sit through that lecture. I shouldn’t’ve had to TA it.” He turns to look at Zuko, finally, meeting his shocked eyes with a resigned look. “Tact has never been the Academy’s strong suit.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko feels like the gravity levels have shifted out of balance. “You…” His brain scrambles for alternate reasons Sokka might be saying what he’s saying, looking at Zuko the way he is. He doesn’t come up with anything. “You know who I am.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka blinks at him slowly, like Zuko’s a problem he can’t quite decide how to approach. Instead of addressing the question, he exhales. “I went out looking for a fight because I got into an argument with my little sister. I got into an argument with her because I’m never exactly in a great mood after I have to field question’s about my mom’s death.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko… tries to put the information together.</p><p class="p2">The lecture topic had been the USS Nivalis, specifically a firsthand account from the third officer and helmsman, published in the years after the attack in 2239. Zuko had to force himself to pay attention, in case the material came up on the exam, but he felt sick every time he’d looked up at the holos, showing what visual evidence remained from what would’ve been a massacre, if not for the Nivalis’ captain. The distress signal, the warning alert ringing through the hallways as the crew rushed to evacuate, frantic and terrified. What was left of the Nivalis, glimpses of the uniforms of the attacking crew, people Zuko <em>recognised</em>-</p><p class="p2">Focus, Zuko.</p><p class="p2">Sokka looks at him patiently, obviously waiting for him to figure it out. Finally, it clicks. “You and your sister- your mother is Captain Kya Imikkâninuiaat.” Zuko says, rather than asks. “I… thought she only had a daughter.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka rolls his eyes, without malice. “She died saving her daughter. And, well, the rest of the crew, but the daughter’s what the history texts always focus on. But she <em>also</em> had a son, and a husband.” He looks away from Zuko then, back up at the sky. “My dad was her first officer, and ran tactical. He was showing me around the engines when the raiders attacked; I liked warp cores as a kid, and no one was expecting a fight. And then everything just… uh, y'know.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko has no idea what to say to that. Because if Sokka’s mother really is Captain Imikkâninuiaat, then Zuko’s people killed her.</p><p class="p2">Sokka clears his throat, after a long silence. “Anyway. I did my final thesis on the Sozin dynasty, and Azulon and Ozai’s regimes. It was kind of… I don’t know, therapeutic? Looking at the facts and data, seeing how the thing that took my mom was created and sustained.” He looks back over at Zuko, who’s yet to drag his eyes away from Sokka. “I was afraid to fly, after mom died. So was Katara- uh, that’s my sister. She had her own way of overcoming it, but for me it was deconstructing this myth I’d built up in my head about these- demonic creatures, disguised as people, who came crawling out from the edges of space and preyed on innocent starships. They were just people. People who’d gotten lost in the darkness.”</p><p class="p2">“Anyway. I- had special clearance for my research. I read every piece of classified information I could get my hands on. And there was a testimony from one of the survivors of a raid in 2243, who’d been captured and brought aboard the warship. This thirteen year old kid had stood up to the ship’s captain, tried to stop him from sending his own men on a suicide mission. The captain… well. You know what he did.”</p><p class="p2">There’s a steady pressure building behind Zuko’s ears, and he can hear the pounding of his heart, and a weird, constant noise from outside- then it registers as Zuko’s own breath, coming out haggard.</p><p class="p2">Sokka stares at him, obviously noticing Zuko’s reaction. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to- we don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted to let you know how I knew. I don’t think anyone else is gonna figure it out; they don’t give clearance like that often. And I won’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Katara.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s eyes focus on Sokka’s face, his kind and understanding smile. “Well.” He clears his throat. “What do you want to know?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka makes a face. “What?”</p><p class="p2">“You aren’t the first person in Starfleet to know who I am.” First to figure it out, though. “People usually have questions.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka frowns, and doesn’t respond for a moment. His eyes, almost imperceptibly, flick to Zuko’s scar. “Are you proud of the person you were when you were part of the empire?”</p><p class="p2">“What?” Zuko recoils. “How can you even- of <em>course</em> <em>not</em>. I’m ashamed of who I was, what I believed, what I <em>did-”</em></p><p class="p2">“Okay then.” Sokka interrupts, simply. “'s all I need to know.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko stares, stunned, back at him. “Sokka, your <em>mother</em>-”</p><p class="p2">“Was killed by the USS Nivalis’ self-destruct protocol, which she manually engaged, at close proximity to the enemy warship, in a manoeuvre that saved two-hundred and seventy-six lives.” Sokka recites, more than says. “Not by some- how old were you at the time? Nine? Year old kid who was born into an empire of cruelty.”</p><p class="p2">“You have no idea… the things I’ve done.”</p><p class="p2">He shrugs, and that easy, slightly lopsided smile is back. “I mean. I don’t know anything about who you are, really. You’re basically just a stranger who broke my nose.” Sokka chuckles, softly, more of an exhale than a true laugh, then sighs, and his gaze softens. “But you’ve got kind eyes.”</p><p class="p2">He says it so simply, like that’s enough to forgive Zuko’s crimes without even knowing the extent of them. Zuko stares at him, hoping Sokka doesn’t hear the way his breath hitches at the words.</p><p class="p2">There’s blood, smeared and crusting, under Sokka’s nose, down his eyelid, across his lip and cheek. His left eye has started to swell, and he looks so <em>tired</em>. None of this does anything to make him look even a fraction less beautiful.</p><p class="p2">If Zuko were a braver man, he might’ve kissed Sokka, then. If he were a smarter man it wouldn’t’ve taken him nearly three years to realise he’d wanted to.</p><p class="p2">But he doesn’t, and Sokka doesn’t lean in either. Just smiles, gently, at Zuko, then turns his head back, eyes gazing up at the stars above them.</p><p class="p2">Zuko keeps looking at Sokka; the stars can wait.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>2</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">When Aang first asks, Zuko laughs in his face.</p><p class="p2">Zuko enlisted in Starfleet to prove that he was more than his family’s bloody legacy; that he could be better than they had ever been. And he had expected to receive a nice commission on some far-off planet that had never heard of Ozai, and live out the rest of his life working security, or tactical, on a starbase.</p><p class="p2">If you’d asked him, those first years at the Academy, whether he would ever want to crew a starship again, the answer would have been an emphatic no. Even beyond the habitual nightmares, the lifetime of habits he’d had to unlearn, and all the other myriad reasons Zuko would have trouble standing on a bridge, well.</p><p class="p2">There’s a reason he never so much as glanced at the command track. Never took a single command course that wasn’t part of the core curriculum.</p><p class="p2">Remedial Empathy Training, mandatory psychological evaluations twice a semester, and the way the Academy seems to always pair him with a telepath for a roommate in ‘random’ accommodation assignments; it’s clear Zuko’s not the only one who looks at his face and sees Ozai. No way in hell would Starfleet command even <em>consider</em> trusting him with a posting onboard a starship, nonetheless allow him to think about being in charge of one.</p><p class="p2">And yet, there Aang is, who has to know all of this, sitting across from him in the mess, eyes wide and pleading.</p><p class="p2">“You-“ Zuko snorts. “You’re funny.”</p><p class="p2">“I’m not joking, Zuko.” Aang says simply, reaching over to stab a bit of Zuko’s pile of steamed mushrooms, and popping them into his mouth. Smiling through chews, he warbles, “I’ve already got the rest of my crew picked out, and I can’t go up without my first officer.” He wiggles his eyebrows, obviously trying to be enticing.</p><p class="p2">Zuko rolls his eyes.</p><p class="p2">Aang wouldn’t have been Zuko’s first choice of friend, but then again, it hadn’t really been up to Zuko. And, admittedly, Zuko has a well-documented history of making poor life choices, so maybe that’s a good thing.</p><p class="p2">They were in Zero Gravity Combat together, third year, and Aang had sidled up to Zuko on the first day and announced they were going to be partners. A year and a half later, Zuko still hasn’t managed to shake him, though he has tried. Repeatedly.</p><p class="p2">With time, he’s gotten used to having a human ball of energy, optimism, and unexpected wisdom constantly hovering around him. The thing is, though- Aang is a <em>legend</em>.</p><p class="p2">It’s all common knowledge; at twelve, Aang survived a genocide that wiped out his entire planet. He’s the last of a subspecies of Trill, and the youngest in recorded history to receive a symbiont. The joining was a desperate measure to preserve their oldest symbiont, containing within it the history, knowledge, and skills of hundreds of previous hosts. Previous hosts that include multiple Starfleet captains, including Admiral Kyoshi and Vice Admiral Roku.</p><p class="p2">Even disregarding his unique abilities to access the knowledge of previous members of the admiralty, Aang’s established himself as a force to be reckoned with. At fifteen, he stowed away with an enemy warship (belonging to Zuko’s people) with two other teenagers, stole it out from under the crew, and piloted it through an active war-zone.</p><p class="p2">He’s the golden boy of the fleet, and he chooses to spend his time with <em>Zuko</em>.</p><p class="p2">“Don’t pander to me, kid.” Zuko gestures, vaguely, to their surroundings. “You’ve got your pick of Starfleet’s best and brightest, you really think anyone’s gonna let you put a war criminal on your bridge?”</p><p class="p2">“You were acquitted of all charges.” Aang waves him away with a smile, then shrugs. "And I've seen your test scores, Zuko, <em>you're</em> one of the best and brightest."</p><p class="p2">
  <em>"How-"</em>
</p><p class="p2">"Besides," Aang continues, as if Zuko hadn't spoken. “I really don’t think command would deny me anything, at this point.”</p><p class="p2">It’s not egoism. It never is, with Aang. When he makes his maiden voyage with Starfleet’s shiny new flagship, he’ll be the youngest captain in history. And if he asks for Zuko on his bridge, they’ll give it to him. It’s the only possible way Zuko could have a chance of a posting on a starship. They both know it.</p><p class="p2">“I’ve applied to a posting on Starbase 65.” Zuko says, and it's not a lie. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else.”</p><p class="p2">Aang fixes him with a look that clearly says he’s not giving up that easily, which Zuko ignores in favour of his lunch.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">They’re on Zuko’s forty-sixth refusal of Aang’s offer (forty seventh if you count the time Zuko just pretended Aang wasn’t speaking as he walked out of the room) by the time exams roll around.</p><p class="p2">Even when Aang, who has double the course load, <em>and</em> the command training program to complete (Starfleet’s either trying to make <em>extra</em> sure Aang’s prepared for the post, or trying to kill him before he can call their bluff on promising a twenty-one year old a starship immediately after graduation), is running on two hours of sleep in four days and full-on hallucinating, Zuko finds himself grateful for the partner in suffering. To Zuko's endless amusement, and despite all expectation of the contrary, Aang becomes <em>such</em> an asshole around day three of no sleep, which in a way makes it all worth it.</p><p class="p2">Officer Leadership Development is Zuko’s second to last exam, and then it’s just his dissertation, and then he can try to remember what relaxation was like. Aang’s still got four exams left, a dissertation and a final presentation before the board, so. Zuko does all of his complaining silently.</p><p class="p2">Even when he realises the written portion of the exam, which had taken four hours, had been the easy part.</p><p class="p2">“The scenario is as such: your CMO is incapacitated, but you have access to their standard Starfleet issued medkit, and your mandatory bridge officer first-aid training. Each of you has an identical humanoid subject, approximately forty years of age, haemorrhaging internally from severe trauma to the upper abdomen. They will be dead within two minutes.” The proctor says, as Zuko, Aang, and four other cadets kneel over identical practice patients in a simulation chamber, the last portion of a three-hour practical.</p><p class="p2">“Your task is to determine the appropriate surgical response and contain as much of the bleeding as possible. And, as any and all emergencies happen without warning, this exercise begins- <em>now</em>.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko dives into the trauma kit, scrambling first for the hypo, injecting the fake crew-member with a neural paralyser with one hand, and scanning the body with his tricorder with the other. He finally decides on a Hifu generator, to slow the haemorrhaging.</p><p class="p2">Two minutes feels like two seconds when time is called, and he’s sitting next to a simulated patient who’s bled out and died.</p><p class="p2">The proctor reviews their work one by one, and Zuko tries to keep his breathing even as he waits for his turn. He doesn’t look back at Aang, doesn’t want to see the soft pity in his eyes when he realises Zuko’s failed.</p><p class="p2">“Cadet Yojin.” The proctor says, as his eyes scan Zuko’s report, the holo projected over his ‘dead’ crewman. “Like Cadet Jones, you took the time to administer a neural paralyser, so your patient didn’t go into shock. You also achieved forty-three percent stoppage, the second highest in this simulation, after Cadet Jones. Well done.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko lets out a breath, feeling it rattle through his chest, a feeling of relief washing over him. But- after- not-?</p><p class="p2">He whips around, watches the proctor come to stand over Aang. “Cadet Gyatso.” He gestures to the holo data, as Zuko feels his own heart sink, reading the single number projected above Aang’s crewman. “You achieved <em>zero percent</em> stoppage. I expected more from Starfleet’s shining star.”</p><p class="p2">“With respect, sir.” Aang gestures to his crewman. “I induced hypothermia, dropping the patient’s core body temperature below twenty-seven degrees celsius, lowering its need for oxygen and reducing damage to the brain and all vital organs.”</p><p class="p2">“You did not halt the internal bleeding, <em>cadet</em>.” He says slowly, like he’s talking to a child. “The sole requirement of this exercise.”</p><p class="p2">“With respect, sir, my patient is the only one in this room still alive.” Aang says, his easy smile stilling. “If you’ll notice, the medscan reports that when the exercise ended, I gave myself thirty more minutes to stop the internal bleeding. More than enough to get the patient safely to sickbay, where a practiced surgeon could stop the haemorrhaging altogether, and ensure my crew-mate didn’t die of their wounds.”</p><p class="p2">“Cadet,” The proctor’s voice rises, at once patronising and admonitory. “The goal of this exercise was to evaluate your surgical abilities in a crisis situation, not save the patient.”</p><p class="p2">“With <em>respect</em>, sir.” Aang says, voice firm, holding eye contact. “The goal is <em>always</em> to save the patient.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">“Alright, alright, fine.” Zuko says, ten minutes later, when they finally leave Command Building A, and stand, blinking, in the midday sun. Aang, still in a bad mood from the practical exam, jerks to look at Zuko, frowning in confusion. Zuko sighs, exaggeratedly, and rolls his eyes. “If we live through the rest of exams, I’ll be your first officer.”</p><p class="p2">They get some strange looks, when Aang tackles him into the grass, making a series of incoherent, delighted, noises, but Zuko’s too busy laughing to care.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">“Permission to come aboard, Captain.”</p><p class="p2">Aang, perched cross-legged in the Captain’s chair, turns to grin over his shoulder. It’s the first time Zuko’s seen Aang since their graduation ceremony; command yellow suits him. “You know you don’t have to ask, Lieutenant.”</p><p class="p2">“Still.” Zuko steps out of the lift, and onto the quiet bridge of the newly christened USS Sky Bison (Aang got to pick the name, too). “Seemed like the thing to do.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko can feel his body’s reaction to being on the bridge of a starship like an itch deep inside him. His eyes, instinctively, map the exit points. The lines of muscle in his body are tensed, ready for a fight, if need be. His breath doesn’t come as easy as it did, before crossing the threshold.</p><p class="p2">But Aang just grins at him, childlike, and it steadies Zuko, allows him to take another step.</p><p class="p2">“So, wha’d’ya think?” Aang gestures to the bridge. “I mean, it’ll be cooler with all the consoles lit up, and the rest of the bridge crew but, y’know. Still kinda exciting, right?” Aang says, as if the excitement isn’t radiating from his body in waves.</p><p class="p2">Zuko isn’t about to take this moment away from him. “Right.” He smiles. “So, when does the rest of the crew show up?”</p><p class="p2">“A week to finish installing the warp core, another for the standard operating tests, and then we’ll have a full house.” Aang chirps, then grins. “But now that you mention it-” He presses a button on the captain’s chair. “Captain to sickbay, you guys wanna come up to the bridge real quick?”</p><p class="p2">The response comes almost instantly. The audio, at first, comes through as two voices, talking over each other. Then one of them goes quiet as the other, which Zuko, for some reason, recognises, responds. “Sure thing, <em>captain.</em>” The last word lacks any of the respect the chair should command; if Zuko didn’t know better, he’d think it was <em>teasing</em>.</p><p class="p2">Aang chuckles, and leans back in his chair. “Brace yourself.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko blinks. “…for?”</p><p class="p2">“Oh, uh, our CMO and CSO. They were giving the labs a look-through while I made myself comfortable up here. Sounded like they were arguing about something though, so.” Aang shrugs. “They’re two of my best friends in the whole word, but you know how siblings are. ”</p><p class="p2">No one knows Zuko has a sister, not even Aang, so Zuko keeps his joke about all the times Azula personally tried to murder him to himself. Probably doesn’t qualify as ‘how siblings are’ by Federation standards, anyway.</p><p class="p2">The door to the bridge slides open, and those two voices are back.</p><p class="p2">“-<em>c‘mon</em>, I just asked-”</p><p class="p2">“Well maybe next time you’ll stop asking stupid questions.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko and Aang turn, and there, in the doorway is… Sokka?</p><p class="p2">It’s been two years since Zuko’s seen him. Sokka had given him the code to his comm, that night, and told him to call if he ever wanted to ‘hang out again’. Zuko never had, though he still, embarrassingly, has the code memorised, from two years of staring at it, wondering whether he should.</p><p class="p2">Sokka hasn’t changed much; same hint of mischief in his eyes, same slightly lopsided smile that manages to make you feel teased and comforted at once. He’s a little broader in the shoulders, maybe, and he’s wearing science blues, which is a surprise. Zuko would’ve expected him to be the operations type.</p><p class="p2">But he looks… really good in blue. It provides a perfect contrast to the warm, rich brown of his skin. The uniform, as they all are, is fit like a glove, hugging visible lines of muscle. His hair is pulled back, framing his defined cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. His eyes, a deep, dark brown, lit by the artificial light of the bridge, seem to glow with warmth.</p><p class="p2">Oh, and there’s a girl next to him, also in blues. They have the same features, the same strong, angular nose.</p><p class="p2">Aang gives a grand wave of his hand, gesturing towards the two of them. “First Officer Lieutenant Commander Zuko Yojin, may I introduce my Chief Science Officer, Lieutenant Commander Sokka Imikkâninuiaat, and my Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant Commander Katara Imikkâninuiaat.” Aang chirps, then leans towards Zuko and stage-whispers, “We’re all <em>very</em> grateful they were given the same rank, or we’d never hear the end of it.”</p><p class="p2">The girl, Katara, scoffs. “You can just call us Katara and Sokka. Having two Lieutenant Commander Imikkâninuiaats gets a little confusing.” She says, simply. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Yojin.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh, Zuko’s fine.” He says. “Nice to meet you both. I mean, uh, nice to meet you, Katara.” Zuko realises he’s been staring, and looks away from Sokka to finally look her in the eye, but his eyes drift back to Sokka immediately. “We’ve, um, met.”</p><p class="p2">Katara glances at her brother, eyebrow raised. “Have you now.”</p><p class="p2">“Sure, he was in two of the classes I TA-ed when I was doing my PHD thesis.” Sokka grins at him. “And we were, uh, gym buddies, for a while there.”</p><p class="p2">Katara’s eyes narrow. “This isn’t fight club guy, is it?” She looks between them. “The one who broke your nose?”</p><p class="p2">“Nah, that guy was an Andorian. Super beefy, six-foot two, I think he’s assigned to the Ataraxia now.” Sokka says easily, with a wink that has something flipping in Zuko’s chest, like adjusting to artificial gravity.</p><p class="p2">Zuko looks between the two of them. Well, he tries to mainly look at Katara, because looking at Sokka is… problematic. “Siblings aren’t usually assigned to the same starship.” He glances at Aang. “I suppose you had to pull some strings?”</p><p class="p2">“What, for these two?” Aang ‘pshaws’. “Zuko, I had to pull strings to get <em>you</em>. Sokka and Katara both deferred ship assignments until I got my captaincy; they could’ve had their pick of postings.”</p><p class="p2"><em>That</em> throws Zuko.If he does the math- and he did, years ago- Sokka’s a year younger than him. To be a CSO, at his age, and <em>choose</em> to be on Starfleet’s flagship?</p><p class="p2">How smart <em>is</em> he?</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s gaze slides to Katara, younger still, and the CMO.</p><p class="p2">Great. Zuko’s been talked into trying to keep up with a ship full of prodigies.</p><p class="p2">This is going to be exhausting.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">To Zuko’s surprise, and somewhat against his will, it only takes Sokka three months to become his best friend.</p><p class="p2">In all honesty, it probably takes less than that. But it’s three months before Zuko notices.</p><p class="p2">They’re passing through the Beta Quadrant when they’re hailed by Starbase 152, whose Admiral relays a request from their science division. Since they’re in the area, would Sokka and his team mind beaming down to help with initial tests and preliminary research into some environmental technology they’re trying to develop?</p><p class="p2">Aang approves the request, and the rest of the crew spends two weeks keeping themselves busy in neighbouring planets without their senior science officers.</p><p class="p2">And Zuko is <em>bored out of his mind.</em></p><p class="p2">He doesn’t recognise it as boredom, at first. He reports to the bridge for his shift, does his work, files reports, receives data, as per the usual.</p><p class="p2">Zuko just feels… off. Fidgety, slightly, like he’s constantly waiting for something to happen; what, he isn’t sure. Everything feels incomplete; there’s something missing in the gym, and mess hall, and recreational areas. Silence that he would’ve relished before feels… suffocating. Zuko glances to the bridge doors every time he hears them open, and can’t understand the flicker of disappointment he feels when he sees whoever it is coming aboard. And he keeps tilting his head to the right, unconsciously, as he stands or sits in front of his data screens, like he’s expecting someone to be there.</p><p class="p2">It finally clicks when Sokka, his first day back on the ship, sidles right into Zuko’s space, on his right (and that’s another matter altogether: how Sokka seemed to know, without ever asking, that Zuko had refused the reconstructive procedure and implant that would’ve repaired the sight and hearing on his left side) and starts pointing out flaws in Zuko’s shift timetable.</p><p class="p2">“You’ve got Yor’xir working with Pausch, we haven’t been out in the black nearly long enough for those two to have learned how to tolerate being assigned together. It’ll throw off engineering’s whole vibe, trust me.” Sokka says, where other people might’ve requested permission to come aboard the bridge, or greeted their first officer before entering his personal space. “I thought this was supposed to be your area of expertise.”</p><p class="p2">“Ship gossip?” Zuko snorts. “Hardly.”</p><p class="p2">“Well, if you’re gonna be scheduling everyone’s shifts for the next five years, you might wanna start listening.” Sokka claps a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “<em>Oh, welcome back Sokka, we missed you so much, what cool new invention did you patent in the last fortnight?</em>”</p><p class="p2">“Welcome back Sokka, your report on the device found on Corvan II is late.”</p><p class="p2">“Wow, killjoy.” Sokka tsks. “Can’t you even <em>pretend</em> you missed your best buddy Sokka?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko turns at last, meeting Sokka’s eye. “Was I meant to?”</p><p class="p2">“You <em>wound</em> me.” Sokka pouts. “And to think, I even brought you a souven-”</p><p class="p2">“Oh <em>hi</em>, Sokka.” Comes Katara’s voice, from where she’s standing at Aang’s shoulder. “Is there a <em>reason</em> for your presence on the bridge, or are you just here to bother our first officer?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka calls back, not taking his eyes off Zuko, “Oh, I’m sorry, Chief <em>Medical</em> Officer Katara." He looks over his shoulder at his sister, then, and she glares back at him. "Out of curiosity, what’s <em>your</em> official capacity on the bridge?” He makes a show of looking around the bridge. “Is someone <em>dying?”</em></p><p class="p2">Toph, at her tactical station, poorly disguises her laugh as a cough.</p><p class="p2">Katara’s nostrils flare. “Not <em>yet</em>.”</p><p class="p2">Aang, clearly amused, clears his throat. “Maybe all non-bridge crew should return to their respective posts.” He says, then turns to Katara and mouths ‘<em>sorry</em>’. She smiles softly at Aang, gives her brother a look that clearly says she’d throw him a rude gesture if the rest of the crew weren’t watching, and strides out of the bridge, head held high.</p><p class="p2">Zuko turns back to Sokka, who’s already grinning at him. “Sorry, Zuko, duty calls.” And that’s another thing, Zuko realises. No one else <em>smiles</em> around Zuko’s name like Sokka does. No one smiles like Sokka does, full stop, but there’s something about the way his lips curve around the syllables of Zuko’s name, like he’s relishing the way the fortis of the k hits the back of his mouth. Zuko likes the way it sounds when Sokka says it.</p><p class="p2">“You just got me back, and now I’m leaving again,” Sokka says, forlorn and dramatic, obviously committed to the bit. “I know you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”</p><p class="p2">“Didn’t, and won’t.” Zuko says, without any edge to his voice.</p><p class="p2">“Aw, c’mon, you missed me a <em>little</em>.” Sokka pouts, eyes wide.</p><p class="p2">Zuko inhales, rolls his eyes. “I <em>might’ve</em> missed having someone to spar with.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka’s answering smile spreads through his face like morning light through a window; bright, warm, blinding. “Careful,” He nudges Zuko’s hip with his own. “Don’t go falling in love with me, now.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko rolls his eyes, pushes at Sokka’s shoulder. “Get off the bridge, Lieutenant.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">It’s another two months before Zuko realises he has, in fact, no idea what Sokka <em>does</em> aboard the ship.</p><p class="p2">He’s in the transporter room with the captain and CSO of the USS Ataraxia, awaiting the arrival of their highest-ranking engineer, when Sokka saunters in instead.</p><p class="p2">“With all due respect, Lieutenant, we requested an engineer.” Captain Keltyn says after Sokka introduces himself, glancing at Zuko in irritation as he does so.</p><p class="p2">“You need someone to help reconfigure the Heisenberg compensators to account for beaming onto the Ataraxia, and that’s me.” Sokka nods to members of the visiting crew with a charming smile. “Captain Keltyn, Commander Achcauhtli. Let’s get you back to your ship.”</p><p class="p2">The two officers look at each other, then at Zuko. Keltyn raises a single eyebrow, and Zuko tries not to sigh as he turns to fix Sokka with the most professional look he can muster.</p><p class="p2">“Is there a reason you’re here instead of Commander Rzei?” Zuko asks, because he has to.</p><p class="p2">“Oh, they were helping me with a project when the comm came through.” Sokka shrugs. “No need to write anyone up for insubordination, we just assumed, given the circumstances, that you were trying to beam onto a ship at warp from a ship at warp. We, uh. Agreed that I was better suited to help out.”</p><p class="p2">Keltyn holds out a hand. “I didn’t know your mother well, Lieutenant, but well enough to know she’d be happy you weren’t riding on the coattails of her fame.” He gives Sokka a look. “But she wouldn’t want you to risk a superior officer’s life trying to make a name for yourself, either.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko tries not to let his distaste show at the captain’s patronising tone, and the completely uncalled-for comment. Sokka’s family, unfortunately, is famous. And, because Aang had to go in front of most of Starfleet command and defend his choice of first officer (and in doing so surprised Zuko with the extent of what he knew, and was willing to forgive, about Zuko’s past), Captain Keltyn knows who Zuko’s family is, too. One of the interesting side effects of notoriety is that strangers don’t bother with tact; they’ll walk right up to you and tell you exactly what they think of you, as if you’d ever asked. Staring down the two of them, both untested senior bridge crew in their mid-20s, the captain obviously thinks he can say whatever the fuck he wants.</p><p class="p2">“Respectfully, Commander.” Sokka says easily, but his jaw has a harder set to it than it did before. “I did my thesis on transwarp beaming, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I could get you back to your ship.”</p><p class="p2">“So you think it’s possible, then.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh it’s very possible.” Sokka smiles. “It’s been done before, by the crew of the Reliant in 2249.”</p><p class="p2">“The Reliant, and two other starships, were all destroyed in 2249.”</p><p class="p2">“Completely unrelated to their beaming mid-warp.”</p><p class="p2">Keltyn glances at his science officer. “So can we use <em>their</em> equations? The ship’s black box should’ve had a record that was immediately uploaded into Starfleet’s archives.”</p><p class="p2">“The numbers are there sir, but essentially useless.” Achcauhtli replies. “The calculations have to be made in real time, on a case to case basis. They require a complete mastery of an advanced mathematical discipline-"</p><p class="p2">"Smooth Infinitesimal Analytic Warp Calculus.” Sokka provides.</p><p class="p2">Achcauhtli nods at him. "Precisely." Keltyn raises an eyebrow, and Achcauhtli makes a face. “It’s a fairly new discipline, sir. Beyond my capabilities, I’m afraid.”</p><p class="p2">“Respectfully, Captain,” Sokka says, still standing there despite the fact that Zuko has been trying to convey ‘walk away while you still have your dignity’ with his eyes at him for the last couple of minutes. Sokka’s been pretending not to see him. “That’s why <em>I’m</em> here. I can do the calculations.”</p><p class="p2">Rolling his eyes, Keltyn waves him away. “Kid, don’t waste my time. If you think I’m putting my life, and that of a senior officer, in the hands of someone who has yet to earn their stripes, one with a… <em>coloured</em> academic history to boot, you’re crazier than most.” He glances at Zuko. “Lieutenant, get me an <em>actual</em> engineer, this time.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko opens his mouth to comply, but Sokka won’t take the dismissal for what it is. “Sir, I have to insist. You aren’t going to find anyone on this ship better equipped for this than me.”</p><p class="p2">“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” Keltyn says sternly. “Don’t make me make it an order.”</p><p class="p2">“Sir, I am an <em>expert</em> in SIAW-”</p><p class="p2">Stepping towards Sokka, Keltyn pulls himself to his full height. “Do not mistake confidence for expertise, Lieutenant. I’m sure you’re smart, Imikkâninuiaat, but this is <em>Starfleet</em>.” He says, voice dripping with condescension. “Everyone is smart. You can’t be a day over twenty-five; you’d have to study at <em>least</em> that long to even <em>approach</em> ‘expertise’.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka’s face shifts fully, into an expression Zuko recognises. It’s the same face Katara made the month before, when the senior surgeon on Thryll had told her to ‘step aside and let the men handle it’. Zuko wonders, absently, which disciplinary form he’ll have to use to write him up, after Sokka’s done whatever it is he’s apparently just decided to do.</p><p class="p2">“Usually, sure, but SIAWC only became a formal mathematical approach six years ago.” Sokka says, thankfully, instead of punching the captain in the face. Sokka’s fingers tap and slide over the screen on his PADD until it projects a bright blue holopage, Starfleet’s data entry for the subset of calculus. With two deft fingers, he enhances the ‘history’ section. “When I invented it.”</p><p class="p2">On the right side of the first paragraph, grainy and holographically projected but immediately recognisable, is a photo of eighteen-year-old Sokka, in his Academy uniform. There’s an audible ‘click’ as Keltyn’s mouth shuts.</p><p class="p2">“Well then.” Commander Achcauhtli says, with a hint of a smile. “Looks like the floor is yours, Lieutenant.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka gives a curt little nod, not looking at the captain, pulls out the chair in front of the transporter technician’s screen, and starts typing.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">After the captain and science officer of the Ataraxia have been successfully beamed back onto their own ship, as confirmed by their transmission, and both officers have, somewhat sheepishly, thanked Sokka for his help, Zuko makes his way back to the bridge. They are still responding to a distress call, after all. He has more pressing matters than the urge to grab Sokka by the shoulders and shake him repeatedly, yelling ‘what the fuck’ over and over. It’s still a pretty strong urge, though.</p><p class="p2">When they’re far enough down the hall, Zuko turns to Sokka, eyebrow raised. “Remind me again why you aren’t in the engineering division?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka, walking beside him, grins. “Ew, and have to wear red all the time? Had enough of that at the Academy, thank you very much.” He chuckles. “Besides, all engineers do is fix the same ten problems on the ship in an endless rotation, complain about EPS conduits, and cream themselves over warp core stats. Pass.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko rolls his eyes, but lets out a soft chuckle. They reach the lift, and Zuko addresses the more pressing issue. “You <em>invented</em> a new kind of math?”</p><p class="p2">“I mean. Yeah?” Sokka says, sheepishly. “It’s not as impressive as it sounds. It did fast-track me for my Theoretical Physics PHD, though. That was cool.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko stares at him, as they wait for the lift doors to open. “Why did- <em>how </em>did you invent- whatever it’s called?”</p><p class="p2">“Smooth Infinitesimal Analytic Warp Calculus, SIAWC. I like to call it ‘see-awk’.” Sokka supplies, with a shrug. “I was working on a theoretical for my dimensional mathematics seminar first year, and none of the math was working the way I wanted it to.”</p><p class="p2">“So you decided the problem was the <em>math itself</em>.”</p><p class="p2">The doors open with a swish, and the two of them step inside. “Pretty much, yeah.” Sokka says, then laughs at the astonished look on Zuko’s face. “Honestly, if you think that’s bad, you should see all the shit that was impossible until Katara or Toph decided it wasn’t. I basically just got lucky frankensteining a bunch of mathematical principles together. No biggie.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko keeps staring at him, this ridiculous person who invented new math, who Zuko has watched, on multiple occasions, be treated by his sister after consuming alien substances with hallucinogenic, occasionally poisonous properties on away missions. “You should be studied.” He says, slightly in awe. “Have you considered donating your brain to science?”</p><p class="p2">“Nah, fuck that. When I die, I’m gonna have my consciousness uploaded into the mainframe of a sentient planetoid.” Sokka says, without skipping a beat. He glances at Zuko, as the doors open again, to the bridge. “That happened to an old girlfriend of mine; she’s a moon now. Seems to like it.”</p><p class="p2">The side of his mouth pulls up, in a charming, debilitating little half-smile, as he turns away and steps out of the lift.</p><p class="p2">Zuko, who is starting to wish he’d stayed in bed that morning, blinks at where Sokka used to be. “You- wait, <em>what</em>?”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <b>3</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">“Transporter room, are you ready to receive us?"</p><p class="p2">"Yes sir, no ion storm interference yet."</p><p class="p2">"Perfect. Four to-"</p><p class="p2">“<em>Zuko</em>.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko turns, and looks at Sokka. He's standing off a ways, resigned determination in his eyes, and Zuko, internally groans. He knows what this is about, and he knows the argument they're about to have. Zuko looks back to the two ensigns. “Zuko to the Sky Bison, ensigns Marsei and Chisolm clear to beam.”</p><p class="p2">Once the two ensigns have disappeared in a shimmer of light, Zuko rounds on Sokka. “Are you <em>insane</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“Probably.” Sokka nods, eyes looking distant. “But I’m sane enough to know there’s maybe a one in a thousand chance of us being able to stabilise the terraforming system from the ship, and that’s without factoring in the time constraints. I have to fix it at the source.”</p><p class="p2">Staring at him, Zuko holds out a hand. “Let me make sure I understand. You want to go back into a village filled with a hostile humanoid species, that we are incapable of communicating with, desecrate their sacred ground on the off-chance your readings are correct and their mythical life-sustaining force is actually an outdated Starfleet terraforming device- that you have <em>no experience programming,</em> I might add- and hope you manage to fix it with the bare minimum of equipment in the-” Zuko checks his comm. “Six hours we have left before the atmosphere becomes toxic. And then, of course, you’re <em>stuck</em> planet-side, until the ion storm passes. Whenever that might be.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka shrugs. “Just another day in the fleet.”</p><p class="p2">“Sokka, no, absolutely not.”</p><p class="p2">“What does Starfleet mean to you, Zuko?” Sokka says, fixing him with a look. “Because I enlisted to do two things: learn, and help. The uniform, the rank, the ship- it doesn’t mean shit if we don’t help people who need it. Maybe the engineers are right, and we can fix the atmosphere remotely, but if not… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anyone died when I could’ve done something to stop it.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko, not for the first time, wishes Sokka wouldn’t insist on being so… <em>Sokka</em>.</p><p class="p2">He groans, and lifts his comm.</p><p class="p2">“Zuko to the Sky Bison, we’re staying planetside. Keep a lock on our location if you can, I know there’s an ion storm incoming.” Sokka stares at him, as Zuko’s comm is met with silence. After a beat, he tries again. “Zuko to the Sky Bison. Does anyone copy?”</p><p class="p2">“Oh, um, yes, Lieutenant Commander, we copy.” Comes Lieutenant Ecker’s voice. “Sorry, sir, we were… discussing who’d be the one to tell the CMO. Good luck, sir. ”</p><p class="p2">Zuko chuckles. “And to you.” He says, then flips his comm shut. Zuko looks at Sokka, takes in the blatant shock in his expression. He rolls his eyes. “Obviously, I’m coming with you.” He absently pats the survival kit strapped to his back, double-checking he still has it; if this all goes the way Zuko suspects it’s going to, they’re gonna need it.</p><p class="p2">Sokka looks at him with an unreadable expression. “Zuko, you didn’t… have to do that. This.”</p><p class="p2">“I know.” Zuko shrugs. “But you’ll need someone to watch your back while you work. And it was either go with you, or beam back and explain to your sister why I let you go alone on a suicide mission on a hostile planet. At least this way there’s even a tiny chance I’ll live to see tomorrow.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka laughs, bright and open, eyes shining with unspoken gratitude, and there’s a (deeply stupid) part of Zuko that watches him and decides it- all of it- is worth the risk.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">Of course, Sokka’s right about the malfunctioning terraforming device, and of course, he manages to fix it. Zuko spends a very pleasant three hours holding a flashlight, listening to Sokka mutter to himself about design flaws, and watching the way his steady hands take apart the machine, clean the central matrix and recode the output processors, and put it back together.</p><p class="p2">But then, <em>of course</em>, they get caught on their way out.</p><p class="p2">Which brings Zuko here.</p><p class="p2">Here being a cave in the bottom of a canyon, waiting for either the ion storm to pass, Sokka to come back with water, or to bleed out and die from his injuries. Whichever comes first.</p><p class="p2">“Zuko?” Sokka’s voice announces his return. He’s only wearing his under-tank, having given his shirt for Zuko to use as a pillow before he left. There are worse views to take in before you die. “Oh <em>fuck</em>.” Sokka exhales, eyes pained.</p><p class="p2">Zuko sits up, as much as he can. “What? What’s wrong?”</p><p class="p2">“No, nothing, I just-” Sokka swallows visibly. “Momentarily forgot about the… leg situation.”</p><p class="p2">The ‘leg situation’ is that part of Zuko’s femur is sticking out of his thigh. He’s been trying not to think about it.</p><p class="p2">Zuko groans, leaning back down. “Please tell me you found water.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka holds up the standard-issue Starfleet survival purifier and container sac, now filled. “Had to walk a solid kilometre uphill for it, but yeah.”</p><p class="p2">“Well gee, I would've gone to fetch it myself but seeing as some of my bones are currently outside my body, I'm not really in a hiking mood.” Zuko grits out.</p><p class="p2">Sokka rolls his eyes, sets the water down beside Zuko. "I'm going to ignore the attitude, because you're fragile right now." He glances down. "So, you want me to… rinse your wounds?"</p><p class="p2">"And your hands." Zuko nods. "Once we get back to the ship Katara can treat any infections, but I still don't want to risk it."</p><p class="p2">"My hands?" Sokka stills. "Wait, you... want me to.” He stares at Zuko. “What do you want me to do?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko raises an eyebrow. “Take a wild guess."</p><p class="p2">“Oh god.” Sokka pales, looks down at Zuko's leg. “No, I’m sorry, I- please don’t ask me to pop the bone back into place.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko stares at him. “...<em>what</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“I. I guess I can try, but I might pass out. Or puke.”</p><p class="p2">“Sokka, of-” Zuko tries to steady his breathing. “Of <em>course </em>I don’t want you to- it’s <em>on the outside of my body</em>, Sokka. You can’t ‘pop’ something like that back in, you fucking-” Zuko takes a deep breath. Elevating his own heart rate is not going to help anything. “I need you to sew this up.” He gestures to the gash across the upper part of his chest. It’s not <em>too</em> deep, but, “I can’t afford to lose any more blood.”</p><p class="p2">“<em>Oh</em>. Okay. But, um,” Sokka doesn’t look any less terrified. “See, the thing is- uh. I… don’t know how?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko frowns. “How what?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka makes a face. “How to, um. Stitch up. Anything?”</p><p class="p2">Eyes narrowing, Zuko takes a deep breath. “See this?” Zuko gestures to his bleeding, broken body. “This means I’m not in the mood for jokes.”</p><p class="p2">“I’m not joking!” Sokka’s voice rises. “What about me screams ‘field surgeon’ to you?”</p><p class="p2">“But you-” Zuko stammers. “Your sister is the <em>CMO</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“Well we’re not fucking psychically linked, are we?” Sokka cries. “Her skills don’t become mine by fucking osmosis, I haven’t taken a first aid course in <em>years!”</em></p><p class="p2"><em>“You tied the tourniquet!</em>”</p><p class="p2">“Anyone can tie a fucking knot, Zuko!”</p><p class="p2">Zuko thunks his head back against the cave wall. “…I should’ve let you get stabbed.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh, for sure.” Sokka nods. “But you just <em>had</em> to be the hero, so now you’re stuck with me.” He gives a faltering grin, then pats Zuko’s wrist. “It’s gonna be fine! You can just- you can talk me through it, yeah?” Sokka says, opening Zuko’s survival kit. “Okay. Step one, um… threading the needle?” He looks at Zuko, expectantly.</p><p class="p2">Zuko groans, long and low. “I’m going to die.” He croaks out.</p><p class="p2">Zuko took on six defenders of the temple of an alien warrior race <em>singlehandedly</em> with a makeshift weapon, and won. He kept another four of them away from Sokka while he was trying to contact their ship through the ion storm. When he saw one of them sneaking up on Sokka from behind, Zuko put his body between them, and got his chest sliced open for his trouble. That same warrior tackled Zuko off the side of a <em>cliff</em>, and he survived it,<em> all of it</em>, and now he’s going to die because of the sheer incompetence of a functional genius.</p><p class="p2">“You’re not gonna die.” Sokka insists. “And before you say it, that statistic about red shirts is total bullshit, it completely fails to account for the fact that, on average, red shirts go on away missions four times as often as any other division. If you readjust for that, science officers are <em>way</em> more likely to die planet-side.” He says, with a shrug. “We like to touch things we shouldn’t.”</p><p class="p2">He smiles at Zuko then, like he’s just said the single most reassuring thing someone bleeding out in a cave could ever hope to hear.</p><p class="p2">Zuko hates Sokka. Really, truly, from the bottom of his heart, <em>hates him</em>.</p><p class="p2">“I’m gonna die.” Zuko grits out. “In a cave. On this stupid <em>shitty</em> planet I can’t even remember the name of, with a <em>crazy person</em> who can reconfigure a hundred year old terraforming device singlehandedly but doesn’t know how to thread a needle.”</p><p class="p2">“Maybe I can use something to cauterise it, instead?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko glares at him. “You really think you, <em>you</em>, surgically burning my flesh is the better option, here.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka makes a face like he’s going to be sick. “Nope, okay, stitches it is.”</p><p class="p2">It’s slow going, from there. Zuko talks Sokka through washing his wounds, placing some damp fabric over the exposed femur, then cutting off the ragged edges of flesh in the gash across his chest so the wound is even.</p><p class="p2">As he finishes inspecting the gash for debris, Sokka looks up at him. “You’re… weirdly calm about all this.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko shrugs. “If it weren’t in such an awkward place I’d sew it up myself. I’ve treated a lot of my own wounds, the novelty kind of wears off after a while.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Sokka says, holding the (now threaded) needle in hand. “Uh, I’ve… always had Katara.”</p><p class="p2">“<em>Yeah</em>, that’s obvious.” Zuko feels himself grinning. “So, you’re gonna do a lockstitch to keep it from pulling. You ready?”</p><p class="p2">“No.” Sokka says through an exhale, nodding.</p><p class="p2">Zuko smiles, in spite of himself. “I trust you, if that helps.”</p><p class="p2">“Well, you shouldn’t.” Sokka says through a grimace. “I don’t.”</p><p class="p2">Sighing, Zuko asks, “Are you right-handed or left-handed?”</p><p class="p2">“Neither.”</p><p class="p2">Blinking, Zuko tilts his head, trying to convey ‘what the fuck did you just say to me’ with only his eyes.</p><p class="p2">It seems to translate, given the sheepish look on Sokka’s face. “I mean, uh, both.” He coughs. “I’m ambidextrous.”</p><p class="p2">“Of course you are. Okay, then use your left hand to press the wound closed, and start stitching on the right. P-” Zuko watches as Sokka’s hand makes contact with his chest, his thumb dragging, just slightly, over the skin before his fingers bracket the gash, pushing the skin together. Zuko… has a medical grade anaesthetic flowing through his veins. He can’t feel <em>anything</em>. But the phantom sensation of a shiver runs down his spine, anyway. “Put the needle through on the lower side, about a centimetre from the opening.”</p><p class="p2">“Here?” Sokka says, voice unsteady.</p><p class="p2">“No,” Zuko says softly, reaching up with his hand to close over Sokka’s, guiding his fingers, and the needle they’re holding, to the right spot. Sokka’s eyes flick up to his, for a moment, before they look back down. “Here.”</p><p class="p2">It is, by all accounts, a very inconvenient time to remember exactly how attracted he is to Sokka.</p><p class="p2">Zuko clears his throat. “So, push the needle through, and up through the same place, just on the other side.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh, g-” Sokka shivers, making a face as he pulls the needle out. “Oh, that’s so gross.”</p><p class="p2">“Don’t pull it all the way through, leave a length of it out. Use that to tie it shut. You said you could tie a knot, right?” Sokka doesn’t answer, just raises his head for a moment to glare at him, before doing as he’s told. “Double knot it. Now put the needle in again, further down the cut, about half a centimetre, and pull it out from the other side, like you did before. Take the thread that’s leading to the knot, and put it under the needle before you pull it tight.” He watches, as Sokka completes the stitch. “Perfect. Now keep doing those until you get to the end.”</p><p class="p2">“This is…” Sokka makes a gagging noise. “I might actually be sick.”</p><p class="p2">“Really didn’t expect you to be squeamish.” Zuko comments, distantly. “I thought you said you grew up hunting.”</p><p class="p2">“Yeah, well, you’re not a fucking whale, are you, Zuko?” Sokka glares at him, before taking a deep breath, and stabbing the curved needle in again.</p><p class="p2">Sokka gets two more stitches done, face contorted in concentration, while Zuko’s eyes flick betweenwatching his hands work and face move. Zuko considers the possibility that the anaesthetic hypo may have come with a sedative component; he feels loose and relaxed, watching Sokka work. After a minute, Zuko breaks the silence that’s fallen. “You seem tense.”</p><p class="p2">“No fucking shit I’m tense, I hate this and I’m trying not to puke.” Sokka grumbles. “There’s <em>pus</em>, Zuko.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko tries to shrug without moving his torso; it doesn’t really work. “Just means my body’s trying to fight infection.” He watches Sokka gag again, pushing the needle through. “Maybe talking would help you… focus less on the pus?”</p><p class="p2">“Please never say pus again.” Sokka pleads, then takes a deep breath. “No, sorry, you’re going to have to start the conversation, my brain is just the word ‘pus’ over and over again.”</p><p class="p2">Chuckling, Zuko tilts his head back, tries to think of something that’ll distract Sokka sufficiently, something he wants to hear Sokka talk about. Finally, he leans forward. “Why’d you hack the Kobayashi Maru?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka startles, just a little, and looks back up at Zuko as he huffs out a laugh. “Who told you about that?”</p><p class="p2">“Half the Academy was at your disciplinary hearing, Sokka.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh. Right.” Sokka chuckles. “Well, we all had different reasons. Katara took personal offence to the concept of something that was designed for people to fail, Aang… doesn’t believe in no-win scenarios. And trying to tell Toph that anything is impossible is generally a bad idea.”</p><p class="p2">“And you?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka hums, slowly. “I just wanted to prove that I could keep up with the three of them.” He lets that sit for a moment, and then continues, tone lighter, “Besides, I didn’t exactly <em>hack</em> it so much as plant a sub-routine that made the program susceptible to… persuasion? And with four of us working in unison to redirect and influence the simulation, ta da! Successful rescue of the Kobayashi Maru.”</p><p class="p2"> Zuko’s admittedly foggy brain processes the information. “Can’t believe <em>you</em> were trying to prove yourself.” He scoffs, a little dazedly. “You’re a genius.”</p><p class="p2"> Sokka’s hands still, and it takes him a second to move again. When he does, it’s to look up at Zuko. “… you think so?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko frowns. “Is that. Not the word you’d use?”</p><p class="p2">Snorting, Sokka pulls the thread tight. “Not even close. I’m just a guy who’s spent most of his life trying, and usually failing, to keep pace with a bunch of kids.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You should’ve seen the way Aang, Katara and Toph ran circles around me when we were younger.”</p><p class="p2">“Yeah, I get that.” Zuko exhales. “Everything came effortlessly to Azula, growing up. It never seemed fair. I was the oldest, but she got all the talent.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka stares at him. “The oldest…?” He blinks. “Zuko, do you have a little sister?”</p><p class="p2">Shit.</p><p class="p2"><em>Fucking sedative- </em>Zuko hasn’t said Azula’s name aloud in five years, not even when comming his uncle. He bites down on a groan; this is not a conversation he should have under sedation. “Uh… yeah. Just two years younger.”</p><p class="p2">“What the f- okay?” Sokka blinks rapidly, obviously trying to make sense of the information. His face freezes, and his features turn down. “Oh. Is she not… around anymore?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko raises his eyebrow. “She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking. But she is in high-security prison. The psych ward of a high-security prison, if you want to get specific.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Sokka seems to remember he’s supposed to be sewing Zuko’s chest shut, and goes back to his work. “You, uh, don’t talk about her.”</p><p class="p2">“She tried to have me killed.” Zuko says. “A few times. Eventually, she just took matters into her own hands.” His hand finds the familiar ridges of scar tissue on his chest, even over what’s left of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad scar here, for a while. ’s fading, now.”</p><p class="p2">“…holy fuck.”</p><p class="p2">"It wasn't all her fault. Being the favourite comes with... responsibilities." Zuko hums, a little fuzzily. “Everyone always liked her better.” He considers it. “<em>You’d</em> like her better; she’s funnier than me.”</p><p class="p2">Pulling the thread tight, Sokka scoffs. “The list of people I like better than you is pretty fucking short, Zuko. And it doesn’t include anyone who’s tried to murder my friends.” He makes a deep, guttural noise of relief. “Okay, done, <em>fuck</em> that sucked.”</p><p class="p2">“As much as someone cutting open your chest with an alien bone knife?”</p><p class="p2">“On the other hand, the list of people <em>funnier</em> than you includes literally every sentient lifeform in the universe. Including Vulcans.” Sokka mutters, tying off the thread. He lets out a weary exhale, eyeing Zuko’s leg warily. “Is there anything else I can do for… that.” And it’s kind of cute, the face Sokka makes, that says there’s nothing in the world he’d like to do less than touch the bone sticking out of Zuko’s thigh, but that he’d still do anything he could to help Zuko, anyway.</p><p class="p2">“No, just-” Zuko winces as he shuffles his body slowly down, until he can get into an easier position to sleep in. “Let me rest for a while? Wake me up if the storm clears.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka nods. “Sure, just.” His teeth worry his bottom lip. “…you’re not gonna die in your sleep, are you?”</p><p class="p2">“Wasn’t planning on it, but if that changes I’ll let you know.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">“Zuko? Hey Zuko, wake up.”</p><p class="p2">“Mmrgh?”</p><p class="p2">“You were… um. Moving? A lot, in your sleep. I was worried you were gonna make your injuries worse.”</p><p class="p2">Injuries? Zuko’s eyes (well, eye, mostly) try to adjust to the strange, dim, artificial light, and whatever his surroundings are. He’s not in his quarters, obviously, because there’s someone else there with him. It’s cold, and damp, and- he can’t feel the lower half of his body?</p><p class="p2">Oh, right.</p><p class="p2">There’s a vaguely Sokka-shaped blur hovering to the side of him, and Zuko, blinks, trying to focus.</p><p class="p2">When he does, he sees Sokka, sleep-ruffled and watching him, concern clear in his eyes. His hair, that Zuko has only ever seen pulled back, hangs loose around his face, framing the line of his jaw.</p><p class="p2">Zuko chokes on his own spit.</p><p class="p2">His chest heaves, wracked by coughs, as Sokka makes a panicked noise next to him, hands coming to hover over Zuko’s body, like he’s afraid he’ll make it worse by touching him.</p><p class="p2">“No-” a wheeze,“-it’s okay-” and another, “-just- um. I’m fine.” Zuko’s face <em>burns,</em> and he looks up at the cave roof, little coughs shaking his body. “You- startled me.”</p><p class="p2">“Shit, sorry.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko sighs, long and deep, and, in the name of self-preservation, doesn’t let himself look back at Sokka. “I just want to make sure you know that this is <em>your</em> fault.”</p><p class="p2">A beat of silence. “…okay?”</p><p class="p2">“I felt a stitch rip.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh <em>c’mon</em>.” Sokka makes a noise that’s half whine, half groan, and Zuko hears him drop his head into his hands. Zuko glances over, and Sokka lifts his head at the same time, their eyes meeting. “If you <em>ever</em> take a knife for me again, I’m letting you die.”</p><p class="p2">“Understood.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <b>4</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">Cazsar is, objectively, a paradise.</p><p class="p2">The plants and flowers all emit a subtle noise, and form the foundation of Cazsarian society, so even the ugliest street in Cazsar puts royal gardens of old to shame. The inhabitants, six-eyed and sort-of translucent but otherwise humanoid, communicate telepathically, so their distress signal, when it comes through, gives the entire bridge crew a two-day headache.</p><p class="p2">That was nearly a fortnight ago, however. The communications team has managed to parse out linguistic cues from their image-based telepathic communication, enough for their universal translators to again be useful, and it only took Katara’s team five days to diagnose and isolate the mutation that’s been killing the Cazsarian's flowers by the thousands.</p><p class="p2">With treatment underway, and diplomatic relations established, the crew’s been taking it in shifts, exploring planet-side. Walking in true gravity, smelling the flowers, as it were. As first officer, Zuko’s in charge of scheduling these shifts. It’s nice, being able to give their crew at least a few hours of unofficial shore leave, as they finalise things with the Cazsarians.</p><p class="p2">Zuko specifically scheduled Sokka’s shift for the beginning of the rotation, a) so Sokka wouldn’t get restless, feeling left out on-board while everyone else beamed down, and b) so <em>Zuko</em>, fully healed but still… processing the field surgery incident, wouldn’t have to be planet-side with Sokka again.</p><p class="p2">Of course, Sokka, being a senior officer, doesn’t need Zuko’s permission to beam down. He just needs Aang’s.</p><p class="p2">Having finished ironing out the details of the Cazsarian’s inaugural agreement to enter into diplomatic relations with the Federation, the head priest of Cazsar’s capital city, Ogimn’oc, is giving Zuko a tour of the city’s central gardens, telling him about each breed of flower in detail. It’s far from interesting, but apparently a lifetime of feigning interest when his uncle talks has made Zuko capable of hiding his boredom from a telepath. Go figure.</p><p class="p2">They’re on blobby red flower species #4 when Sokka comes into view, striding out from around a hedge and giving Zuko a little wave when he sees him.</p><p class="p2">From Zuko’s perspective, his mind goes completely fucking blank, <em>immediately</em>. So he has no idea what it is that the telepath reads from the white noise that used to be Zuko’s higher cognitive functions. But regardless, the universal translator conveys the way Ogimn’oc words trail off, then a heavy silence.</p><p class="p2">“I’ll give you a moment with your Sokka, Lieutenant Commander.” The translator relays, as the priest bows next to him. Zuko… mostly registers the words.</p><p class="p2">As the priest walks away, Sokka approaches him. “Hey, Zuko!” He says cheerily. “You guys done for the day?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko gapes at him. “Sokka, what the fuck.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh, we finished up our data work for the planet, I thought my team could-”</p><p class="p2">“No, Sokka.” Zuko gestures to Sokka’s uniform. Or, rather, lack thereof. Because he’s wearing the <em>skirt</em> uniform. Uniform styles aren’t gendered, haven’t been for a century. It’s all a matter of personal preference. But <em>Sokka</em> always wears the trouser uniform, and the sudden appearance of muscled thigh and calf, shining under the two suns of Cazsar, is a little much for Zuko, right now. “What the <em>fuck</em>.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka glances down. “The uniform?” His hips do a little swish, turning the fabric in place around the upper part of his thighs. Zuko’s mouth goes dry. “What about it? It’s regulation length.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s brain, having rebooted and managed to regain about 25% capacity, reminds him there is something in his hand. His PADD, apparently. He picks it up and pretends to know what it does or why he’s holding it. “Let me guess.” Zuko’s voice is remarkably even, given the circumstances. “You lost a bet with Toph.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka splutters. “I’ll have you know, I wore the skirt uniform all the time at the Academy. Back when I was dating-”</p><p class="p2">“Mm-hmm.” Zuko cuts him off dismissively, and he thinks he does a pretty good job of pretending to be reading whatever the fuck is on his PADD, instead of watching a single bead of sweat trace a slow line down the muscled curve of Sokka’s thigh. “You lost a bet with Toph.”</p><p class="p2">“I lost a bet with Toph.” Sokka confirms, with a shrug. “Whatever, joke’s on her; it’s hot as fuck on this planet, and I’m getting a <em>very</em> comfortable breeze.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko shuts his eyes, praying to whatever flower god the Cazsarians believe in for patience and restraint. “I wish I didn’t know you.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">Zuko will admit, to himself and himself alone, that what comes next is entirely his fault. But <em>also</em>, if Sokka had just worn his normal uniform, or Toph weren’t waging stealthy psychological warfare on him, personally, Zuko wouldn’t’ve been so distracted by Sokka’s legs, and the way the fucking skirt swished around his hips when he walked, that he failed to notice the priest talking to him.</p><p class="p2">“Oh-um.” Zuko says, when Ogimn’oc’s six eyes blink at him, expectantly. He tries to keep his own eyes from wandering back to Sokka, who’s gesturing with both hands at a Cazsarian. The motion pulls his hemline up, just a fraction. “I’m sorry, I-”</p><p class="p2">“<em>Please, Lieutenant.”</em> The universal translator had smoothly relayed. “<em>It would be our honour to give you this gift, as a token of gratitude and our hopes for continued relations between ourselves and the Federation.”</em></p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Zuko tries to remember the briefing on the culture of the inhabitants of Cazsar; he doesn’t think anyone mentioned a tendency to give severed heads as gifts, or anything like that, so he assumes it’s safe to say, “Of course. We’d be honoured to accept.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">“So, how <em>exactly</em> did the priest come to the conclusion that we were pair-bonded and would like to have the gift of a holy wedding in the blessed rivers of light bestowed upon us? Because I think I missed a step somewhere.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko, halfway through tying one of the roughly three million ties on his ceremonial wedding shift, refuses to look Sokka in the eye. “Don’t start with me, Sokka.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka laughs. “Hey, don’t blame me, I was just minding my business-”</p><p class="p2">“About to start a diplomatic incident, more like.” Zuko grits out, more than a little irritated. He had been doing <em>so well</em>. He had figured out how to manage his feelings for Sokka, so they didn't affect their friendship, or Zuko's fucking job. They had been Zuko's business, and the only other person who needed to know was Toph, so he had someone to rant about Sokka to (fucking traitor that she'd turned out to be). He had a <em>system</em>, and it worked.</p><p class="p2">Telepathy should be outlawed.</p><p class="p2">“Having a <em>perfectly</em> friendly discussion with the locals.” Sokka asserts, then mutters, annoyed, “‘<em>Can your science explain why it rains’, </em>honestly, I don’t know why you guys still force me to come to these fucking ‘spiritual’ planets.”</p><p class="p2">“You <em>chose</em> to beam down again, you already used your time slot planet-side.”</p><p class="p2">“That's beside the point." Sokka dismisses. "<em>Anyway</em>, you were the one talking to the priest before they decided we needed to be joined under the light of three moons, did they say <em>why?”</em></p><p class="p2">One of the priests of the temple, while helping Zuko collect some stupid flower apparently crucial to their stupid marriage ceremony, had, in fact, chattered on about how Ogimn’oc, standing next to Zuko, had empathically sensed his ‘deep love, reverence, and feelings of companionship and desire’ for Sokka.</p><p class="p2">Which is a crock of shit, because <em>Zuko</em> wouldn’t even describe his feelings for Sokka as ‘deep love and reverence’ to <em>himself</em>, so who the fuck do these telepathic aliens think they are, just coming right out and stating it as fact?</p><p class="p2">Regardless. He will not be telling Sokka any of it.</p><p class="p2">“No, but honestly, does it even matter?” Zuko grunts. “Just another day in the ‘fleet, right?”</p><p class="p2">That, at least, isn’t a lie.</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s had to marry Aang twice, Toph once. Aang and Sokka are on six marriages and counting, and Zuko has a sneaking suspicion if Katara has to deal with the aftermath of Sokka marrying their Captain one more time, she’ll push him out of an airlock. It’s just one of those Starfleet things; there’s a whole lesson devoted to it, in Federation Cultures/Social Customs, a first year course at the Academy. There’s even a specific, deliberately painless form and process for annulments of marriages of diplomatic necessity.</p><p class="p2">It’s not a big deal.</p><p class="p2">It <em>isn’t.</em></p><p class="p2">Zuko grunts, finally finished with the last of the ties, and sits up.</p><p class="p2">Sokka’s already dressed in his shift, the metallic shimmer of the fabric a beautiful contrast to his brown skin. It does nothing to improve Zuko’s mood.</p><p class="p2">“What are you doing.” He grunts.</p><p class="p2">Sokka looks up from where he’s crouched over what passes for a table on this fucking planet, assembling a circlet of flowers. “One of the priests dropped off that-” He nods towards the floor, where a giant bowl of flower cuttings rests, “-earlier. She said we were encouraged to ‘adorn ourselves in them’ and I figured if we're wearing them, they might let us keep 'em. I mean, flowers that make noise, that are an integral part of a ritualistic alien ceremony, how could I <em>not</em> try to take some back to the lab?” He grins, and then continues with a shrug, “You’re kind of… on edge, so I thought you probably wouldn’t want me braiding them into your hair? So I’m making crowns! Yours is done.” Sokka nods to a circle of red, orange and yellow flowers, resting delicately on the table.</p><p class="p2">Zuko stands, picks it up with careful hands. “You… braid flowers?”</p><p class="p2">“Old habit.” Sokka says with a shrug. “We traveled with a troupe of Betazoid musicians for a little while, when we were younger. Deeply annoying, worst six months of my entire life, but I did pick up a couple of tricks.”</p><p class="p2">Okay, sure, why not. Zuko lifts the circle of intertwined flowers above his head. “So I just…?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka stands, gives him a careful look. “Actually, you might wanna-” He pauses, halfway to reaching for the circlet. “May I?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko nods, silently.</p><p class="p2">Sokka steps closer. With careful, gentle hands, he pulls Zuko’s hair out of the Starfleet-regulation ponytail he always keeps it in. His right hand drags nimble fingers through the hair at the crown of Zuko’s head, pushing it back; it takes all of Zuko’s strength not to melt into the sensation of it. Sokka’s left hand gently places the circlet on his head. “Your hair’s so long.” He comments quietly, fingers trailing down the length of it, smoothing out the inconsistencies. His eyes roam over Zuko’s face, and he tucks a couple strands of hair behind Zuko’s ear, knuckles brushing the skin of his jaw as he does so.</p><p class="p2">“There you go.” Sokka murmurs, with a smile so soft and private it makes Zuko forget how to breathe. “Suits you.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">They debrief in the ready room, in front of Aang, and with Katara scanning them for adverse affects from the ‘rivers of light’. Both of them look entirely too amused for Zuko’s liking.</p><p class="p2">“So, uh.” Aang, fighting a smile, looks over them both, from their metallic robes, covered in damp petals, to the flower crowns they are, unfortunately, still wearing. Though he supposes that is what Sokka'd wanted. It's not the first, nor will it be the last, time Zuko's dignity has taken a hit for the sake of making Sokka happy. “What’s a wedding like on Cazsar, anyway?”</p><p class="p2">“Well, there’s no kissing since, y’know. They don’t have mouths.” Sokka says, casually.</p><p class="p2">Katara snorts out a laugh. “You dodged a bullet, there.” She mutters.</p><p class="p2">“Hey!” Sokka protests. “Don’t be mean to Zuko.”</p><p class="p2">“I was talking <em>to</em> Zuko.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka sticks his tongue out at his sister, who smirks back at him.</p><p class="p2">“We waded into the water from opposite sides, met in the middle, then there was a glowing light all around us, and these flying lights rose out of the water and circled us for a bit, and then… nothing. They just disappeared.” Zuko continues, for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the way Sokka’s head turns, just slightly, to look at him. He's been doing that a lot since the ceremony; just <em>looking </em>at Zuko.</p><p class="p2">Katara sighs, long suffering. “I’ll have to scan for neurological affects, then. In case the empaths and their flying lights scrambled your brains.”</p><p class="p2">“And that’s it?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka coughs, awkwardly. “Well, uh, we still had to do the ceremonial disrobing and the priest’s recitation.” Sokka says, then shrugs. “But then yeah, that was it.”</p><p class="p2">“The- ” Aang looks between them, visibly schooling his expression from utter euphoria to simple, restrained delight. “The ceremonial <em>what?</em>”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">“So, uh.” Sokka clears his throat, falling into step with Zuko, after they’ve both suffered through a complete sonic shower decontamination cycle in sickbay, and Katara has cleared them for duty. “Maybe we should… talk?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko, resolutely, does not look at him, and keeps walking. “What’s there to talk about?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka stares at him, stunned silent for a moment. “Uh, the Algorian mammoth in the room?” Sokka says, incredulous. “Zuko, we saw-”</p><p class="p2">Zuko turns on him. “Fuck, Sokka, what are you, twelve? There’s nothing to talk about, because all that happened on that stupid fucking flower planet was that six hours of my life were wasted by the single most <em>annoying</em> alien race I’ve ever encountered.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Sokka’s face is blank, unblinking. “Um, sure, okay. I didn’t mean to- we’ll just… carry on as if nothing happened, then?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko nods. “As far as I’m concerned, nothing did.” He turns on his heel and all but storms off, back to his quarters where he can, hopefully, calm down and work on reclaiming his dignity in peace, free from the memory of how Sokka had looked, flowers in his hair, a look of awe in his eyes, as the lights of the ceremony swirled around them. As always, Sokka was watching the lights, and Zuko was watching him, until he couldn’t take it any longer and turned away.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">Toph is waiting for him when he keys in the code to his quarters, sitting on his bed with an expression that very clearly says she’s going to laugh at him <em>and</em> apologise, she just hasn’t decided in which order, yet. She’s holding a bottle of Saurian brandy, so Zuko resists the urge to kick her out.</p><p class="p2">“You should be shot in the street.” He says, instead.</p><p class="p2">She grimaces, all teeth. “I am… very sorry.” She says, slowly, the VISOR over her eyes tracking his movement as he flops onto the bed, facedown, beside her. “In my defence, I couldn’t <em>possibly</em> have predicted putting Sokka in a skirt would lead to the two of you getting married in a lake, like, three hours later.”</p><p class="p2">“It was a river. I married Sokka in a glowing river surrounded by telepathic aliens and trees that make noise.” He grumbles, into the duvet. “They had six eyes and no mouths, Toph.”</p><p class="p2">“I know, and I-” She coughs back a laugh. “I <em>am</em> sorry.”</p><p class="p2">“I inhaled an alien flower petal, Toph.”</p><p class="p2">“I brought my second-best bottle of brandy?”</p><p class="p2">“We had to be <em>naked</em>, <em>Toph</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“I will go and get my best bottle of brandy.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <b>5</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> “Lieutenant Ecker, reopen the channel.”</p><p class="p2">“Yes sir.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko waits, until the captain’s face appears on the holoscreen. “Vog’el. Show me my crew.”</p><p class="p2">Vog’el hisses, a disgusting, wet noise. “You are in no position to make demands, Lieutenant.”</p><p class="p2">“It’s Lieutenant Commander. And I don’t think you understand <em>your</em> position.” Zuko says, simply. “For some reason, we can no longer get a read on the life signs of our captain and science officer. If you do not produce them, unharmed, within the next five minutes, I will assume they’ve been killed. Without them, you have nothing to bargain with, and I will shoot your ship out of the sky.”</p><p class="p2">The Alem captain laughs, a rumbling noise accompanied by erratic movement of his ganglia. “You think we don’t know how your Federation operates? Diplomacy and restraint, always. Don’t waste my time with empty threats, <em>Lieutenant</em>.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko forward, braces his arms on the captain’s chair. “Vog’el. Allow me to make something clear. My name is Zuko, son of Ozai, song of Azulon, son of Sozin, prince of the Qul’dIr.” He watches, with some satisfaction, as the ganglia retreat back into Vog’el’s head. “Oh good, you’ve heard of me. Then you’ll believe me when I say any <em>restraint</em> I have dies with my captain. You are an enemy of the Federation. This is Starfleet’s <em>flagship. </em>If you’ve killed either of my senior officers, you, and your entire crew of war criminals, will die screaming.” He leans forward, slowly, looks Vog’el in the eye. “Do I sound like I’m bluffing?”</p><p class="p2">“Captain,” Lieutenant Mora calls. “They’re dropping into warp.”</p><p class="p2">“If you think we can’t follow your ion trail, you’re even stupider than I thought.” Zuko says, to Vog’el. “We will obliterate your ship the moment it drops out. And judging from your ship’s schematics, it doesn’t have the capabilities to sustain warp speed longer than four hours, maximum. You have until then to produce my officers.” He taps at the arm rest’s screen, ending the call.</p><p class="p2">The bridge around him is silent.</p><p class="p2">“Ecker, whatever scans you managed to complete of their ship, review them and compare to the schematics in Starfleet’s database.” Zuko says, to the wide-eyed Lieutenant. “Find where their shields are generated; Lieutenant Commander Beifong will need to know where to aim.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">“Acting captain’s log, Stardate 301169.52. Day three of negotiations with the hostile race that have identified themselves as the Alem. We’ve been at warp for an hour, in pursuit of the enemy starship that is still holding our Captain and CSO. We lost both of their vitals, simultaneously, nearly two hours ago, but Chief Medical Officer Imikkâninuiaat remains adamant in her assertion that the manner in which the readings disappeared is inconsistent with death, so we are operating off of the assumption that the Alem possess technology that blocks our scanners. The alternative is…”</p><p class="p2">Zuko stares out the window of Aang’s ready room, watching the lights and colours of space fly by at warp speed. “The alternative. The idea that they- that <em>he </em>might be… and I never…”</p><p class="p2">Zuko inhales, unclenches his fists, finds that his fingernails have drawn blood in his palms. “Computer, delete recording.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka’d joked, once, while Katara was healing and immunising him against a fungal bite he’d managed to acquire on Bajor IV, “If I don’t find fun new ways to put myself in mortal danger, how is Katara ever gonna become the best doctor in the ‘fleet? This way, she’s prepared for anything.”</p><p class="p2">It’s a stupid fucking thing to think about, now.</p><p class="p2">But it’s a nice break from what’s been replaying constantly in his head, every time he closes his eyes; the group of them, Zuko, Aang, Sokka, Millus from Security, and Ensign Hoda, dodging blaster fire and standing on the open side of a ravine, waiting to be beamed out. The ground beginning to shake underneath them, the cracks forming in the cliffside. Sokka pushing Zuko to steady ground, and Aang lunging after him as the cliff fell away; the two of them falling as the transporter energised. Zuko, shouting, uselessly, in the transporter bay.</p><p class="p2">It should be <em>him</em> on the Alem ship. If Sokka hadn’t been so fucking <em>stupid</em>-</p><p class="p2"> The doors open with a soft whish, and Katara steps inside the ready room.</p><p class="p2">“Captain, I…” She trails off, taking a long look at Zuko and the contents of the room, and lowering her tricorder. “…what happened to the table.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko glances at her, then at the table in question. “I kicked it.”</p><p class="p2">“You kicked it.” Katara says, carefully. “…in <em>half</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“The furniture on board isn’t built as sturdy as you’d think.”</p><p class="p2">“Right.” Katara nods, to herself. “Well, that’s another item for the list.”</p><p class="p2">“The list?”</p><p class="p2">Katara frowns at him, like she’s trying to puzzle him out. “I heard your ultimatum to the Alem.” She says, after a minute. “Aang wouldn’t’ve wanted you to kill in his name.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko scoffs. “Well, maybe you didn’t notice, but Aang’s not here.”</p><p class="p2">“I’m not saying I disagree with you.” Katara says simply. “But Toph and I thought someone should say it, and I was on my way here anyway.”</p><p class="p2">“Right.” Zuko’s eyes narrow. “And you were on your way here because…?”</p><p class="p2">Stepping towards him, Katara glances at the tricorder. “According to the logs, you’ve been on duty for forty-two straight hours. Four hours before that, you were on duty for twenty-six. You look like shit, your vitals are fucked, and you, at some point, <em>kicked a table in half</em>.” She looks him dead in the eye. “As CMO, I can declare you medically unfit for duty and remand you in quarters, if I have to.” Before Zuko’s protest can leave his lips, Katara continues. “I don’t <em>want</em> to. But you need to get some rest, and you need to eat. This ship is full of perfectly capable officers who can-”</p><p class="p2">“Absolutely not. I know my limits, Katara, and I’m fine.” Zuko shakes his head. “We need to focus on helping Sokka and A-”</p><p class="p2">“You’re not helping anyone by torturing yourself.” Katara frowns at him. “If my idiot brother pushed you out of harm’s way, that’s on him, not you.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko blanches. “…Katara, he might be-”</p><p class="p2">The look in her eyes stops the sentence in its tracks.</p><p class="p2">“Don’t tell me how to talk about my brother. He’s not dead, and neither is Aang. I’d know.” She inhales, somewhat shakily. “He’s probably annoying the shit out of his captors as we speak. He’s going to be <em>fine</em>, Zuko. We’ve survived a hell of a lot worse than this.”</p><p class="p2">“But if he-” Zuko tries, but chokes on the words. “If <em>I</em>…” He’s expecting her to interrupt him again, apparently, because he has no idea how he was intending to finish the sentence.</p><p class="p2">Katara studies him intently for a minute, brow furrowed. Her head tilts, inspecting him slowly, methodically, like a bug under a microscope. Finally, she asks simply, “Zuko, are you in love with my brother?”</p><p class="p2">Whatever Zuko’s face does, in that moment, is enough to have Katara making an expression of pure, unfiltered annoyance as she brings her thumb and forefinger up to massage at the bridge of her nose. “Fuck’s <em>sake. </em>Honestly<em>, </em>it’s like every fucking person we meet- you have seen him <em>eat</em>, haven’t you?” She takes a deep, centring breath. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Though that does… explain a <em>lot, </em>actually.”</p><p class="p2">“Look, Ka-”</p><p class="p2">“Nope, whatever it is, I don’t wanna hear it right now.” Katara manages to gesture threateningly with her tricorder. “Whatever, sure, you’re in love with Sokka, for some reason. The fact remains, you’re not going to be any help to him if you keel over from exhaustion. You are going to come with me, to sickbay, and let me at least give you some supplements and put you out for a couple hours while we’re in pursuit at warp. I really just need to get your vitals even a smidge further away from cardiac arrest before you collapse halfway through a hostage negotiation.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko inhales, slowly. “Lieutenant Commander, I am acting captain of this ship, and your <em>superior</em> officer, and I’m telling you that I am <em>fine</em>. Don’t undermine my authority, or presume to know what I’m capable of, understood?”</p><p class="p2">Katara’s face stills into a perfect echo of Sokka’s, when Zuko’s really pissed him off. “Perfectly, commander.”</p><p class="p2">“Good.” Zuko says, and turns to leave the ready room.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">Lights and sounds swim around Zuko’s consciousness, not quite taking concrete shape.</p><p class="p2">Groggy, and disoriented, he, with some effort, raises his head off of whatever soft object it’s been resting on, and tries to get his bearings. For a moment, he thinks he’s gone fully blind, or <em>died</em>- all he sees is <em>white</em>.</p><p class="p2">Then he registers a low, steady beeping, and takes a deep breath, filling his nose with a distinctly… sterile smell. Zuko lurches upwards. He’s in <em>sickbay</em>. He tries to sit up, but thick restraints pin his wrists and ankles to the bed.</p><p class="p2">What happened? Were they boarded? Has he been captured? The Alem- Aang, and <em>Sokka</em>-</p><p class="p2">“Morning, sunshine.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s head whips around.</p><p class="p2">There, in the bed next to his-</p><p class="p2">“<em>Sokka</em>.” The word takes all the breath from Zuko’s lungs. His eyes take in Sokka’s smiling face, every inch from his hair to his shoulders. “Wh- what happened?”</p><p class="p2">The corner of Sokka's perfect mouth dips down in a small grimace. “Katara sedated you. And uh, declared you unfit for duty. Apparently.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Zuko looks down at his limbs. “And the restraints?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka shrugs. “Did you, by any chance, piss her off?”</p><p class="p2">“Um.” Zuko swallows; his head and eyelids are heavy. “Probably.” He leans back onto the pillow, without taking his eyes off of Sokka. “…are you real?”</p><p class="p2">Chuckling, Sokka winks at him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He says, before gesturing to his lower body. “If hallucinating me with a broken leg is your way of getting back at me for the cave stitches thing, though, maybe I should remind you, again, that no one asked you to get sliced open and fall off a cliff for me.”</p><p class="p2">“You… broke your leg?” Zuko cranes his neck to glimpse the regenerator at the end of Sokka’s bed.</p><p class="p2">“I helped Aang escape capture from an elite military race <em>and</em> commandeer a short-range escape vessel, managed to adjust its capacities so we made it all the way to Starbase 47, and then used their technology to beam back aboard this ship <em>while it was at warp</em>.” Sokka huffs, arms crossed. “While I was committing these thrilling feats of heroics, I happened to break my leg in three places, and now it’s all anyone wants to goddamn talk about.”</p><p class="p2">“But you’re.” Zuko blinks at him slowly. “You’re okay.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka smiles softly. “Yeah, Zuko. I’m okay.”</p><p class="p2">“And Aang?”</p><p class="p2">“Even more okay. Katara relieved him of duty for twenty-four hours, while he recovers, but honestly, if we’re talking exhaustion, blood pressure, and dehydration levels?” Sokka frowns. “You were worse off than he was, and you weren’t even the one who got kidnapped.”</p><p class="p2">“Yeah, well.” Zuko grumbles, ineffectually, and looks away from Sokka at last.</p><p class="p2">After a moment, Sokka pipes up again. “I heard you were pretty intimidating, staring down the Alem. Apparently acting-captain-Zuko is a stone cold badass; I’m sorry I missed it.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko snorts, derisively. “Don’t be. I’m pretty sure the ensigns are scared of me, now, and I probably owe half the bridge crew an apology.” He says, to the ceiling. “I, uh. Wasn’t very nice.”</p><p class="p2">“Eh.” Sokka says easily, voice light. “You’re never nice. Hasn’t stopped me loving you, yet.”</p><p class="p2">A beat passes, as the words sink in.</p><p class="p2">Zuko nearly breaks his neck, he turns so quickly to face Sokka.</p><p class="p2">“I mean.” Sokka, for his part, is staring at the wall in front of him, eyes wide. “Uh. That is. You know- Aang’s really nice.” He blinks, rapidly. “That’s why I love Aang. Toph’s not nice, but I love her anyway. I love my friends regardless of how nice they are, y’know? Ensign Koss, they’re <em>such</em> a dick- Vulcans usually are- but I love them! So much love for my friends and crew. I even love Katara! Y’know, to an extent.”</p><p class="p2">It occurs to Zuko, as he stares, wide-eyed and confused, at Sokka, that his best friend might also be under a fairly strong sedative.</p><p class="p2">"Fuck." Sokka twists, looks at Zuko with a pained expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean t-”</p><p class="p2">“Oh good, you’re awake.” Katara, sweet, merciful, magnanimous Katara, puts them both out of their misery by pulling back the privacy panels separating the two of them from the rest of sickbay. “Hi Zuko, sorry I forcibly sedated you, but I’m also not putting it in my report that you threatened mass-murder or went mad with power and kicked a table in half, so I think we’re even.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko nods, vaguely alarmed. “Agreed.”</p><p class="p2">She pulls up holo controls for his biobed, and with a couple taps of her fingers, the restraints slide smoothly off of his wrists and ankles. “Since there’s nothing <em>medically</em> wrong with you,” Katara says, with a significant pause to indicate how much, exactly, she thinks is otherwise wrong with him, “You’re free to go, but you’ve been relieved of duty for twenty-four hours. Try to get some rest?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko sits up, rubbing his wrists, and glances back at Sokka. “But-”</p><p class="p2">“Zuko, whatever exaggerated stories about his daring escape Sokka wants to tell you can wait until he’s no longer feeling the after-effects of a severe cognitive concussion.” Katara says sternly, making a little ‘shoo’ing gesture with her hand. “Now get out of my sickbay, let my brother rest, and if I hear you’ve taken a single step onto the bridge before your relief period ends…” She trails off, letting Zuko assume the rest of the threat for himself.</p><p class="p2">“Understood.” Zuko nods, and gives Sokka’s sheepish smile one last glance. “Uh, feel better Sokka.” He says pathetically, and all but runs out of sickbay.</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <b>+1</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">“Please tell me you heard all that so I don’t have to explain why I want you to euthanise me.”</p><p class="p2"> Katara snorts, sitting on Zuko’s now-empty biobed. “I promised dad you’d come back home in one piece, but that’s <em>such</em> a tempting offer.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka groans, dropping his head into his hands. “I told him I loved him, Katara.”</p><p class="p2">“I heard.” She says, biting down a smile. “And Aang. And Toph, and Ensign Koss, and even <em>me</em>, to an extent. Declaration of brotherly love like that, what kind of sister would I be if I didn’t come in to save you from yourself?” She pulls up the holo of his bio-readings. “Besides, I needed to check how the bone regeneration was coming.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka raises an eyebrow. “And the concussion I wasn’t aware I had?”</p><p class="p2">Katara shrugs. “I thought you might need something to fall back on, on the off-chance Zuko isn’t too exhausted to remember that trainwreck of a conversation.”</p><p class="p2">“You’re the best sister in the world, you know that?”</p><p class="p2">“I’m still not killing you, Sokka.”</p><p class="p2">“Worth a shot.”</p><p class="p2">She looks past the blue lines of data holographically projected, and meets his eyes. “You could just <em>talk to him</em>, you know. Without immediately confessing your love for Aang, that is.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka huffs. “And <em>you</em> could just talk to Aang.”</p><p class="p2">“That’s different.”</p><p class="p2">Rolling his eyes, Sokka sinks further into his bio-bed. “Sure, of course, you’re in love with your best friend and coworker, who you’ve saved, and who’s saved you, from certain death, and you’re afraid it’ll ruin the friendship and make our five year mission awkward. Whereas <em>I-” </em>He glares exaggeratedly at his little sister. “Oh <em>wait!</em> It’s the exact fucking same thing.”</p><p class="p2">“Except the fact that Aang is a twenty-two year old starship captain, and the entirety of Starfleet command is just <em>waiting</em> for him to fuck up.” Katara glares right back. “How do you think they’ll feel about him dating his CMO?”</p><p class="p2">“I… admittedly did not think about that.”</p><p class="p2">Katara rolls her eyes, then sighs, adjusting a setting on the regenerator. “It’s just.. not our time yet. I mean, I’ve waited this fucking long, what’s another three years and five months?”</p><p class="p2">“A really fucking long time?”</p><p class="p2">Katara waves away the holo, so there’s nothing impeding Sokka’s view of the look she gives him, a single eyebrow raised. “How long would you wait for Zuko?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka opens his mouth, can’t come up with a coherent response, and closes it again.</p><p class="p2">“That’s what I thought.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p2">Sokka is not <em>pouting</em>. No matter what Katara says. And he’s absolutely not <em>hiding</em> from Zuko. He’s the Chief Science Officer of the Federation’s flagship; he’s a very busy man.</p><p class="p2">The thing is, there’s always been something, between him and Zuko. That night they’d just… sat together and talked (after beating the shit out of each other, obviously). Zuko’d looked at him, in the darkness, and Sokka’s not an <em>idiot</em>, he knows what someone looks like when they want to be kissed. And <em>fuck</em>, Sokka’d wanted to oblige him.</p><p class="p2">But of course, there’d been Suki, and their one year anniversary on the horizon, and Sokka wasn’t about to throw all that away for a pretty face he’d spent a couple hours getting his ass kicked by. The connection had been there, though, whether either of them acted on it or not.</p><p class="p2">And he’d really <em>liked </em>Zuko, even when he’d barely known him. As junior faculty, it hadn’t taken much for Sokka to get Aang and Zuko assigned to the same Zero Gravity Combat rotation, the next year, and from there he’d simply relied on Aang’s compulsion to seek out the grumpiest motherfucker in any given situation and make it his life’s mission to befriend them.</p><p class="p2">Sokka’d had a feeling the two of them would be good for each other.</p><p class="p2">Besides, Katara couldn’t be CMO <em>and</em> first officer, Sokka didn’t want all the scheduling hassle and time commitments the position came with, and they all knew command was gonna take issue if Aang tried to have a blind XO, so Toph was out too. They needed a first officer, Zuko and Aang would be graduating the same year, and someone with Zuko’s upbringing, skillset, and life experiences would be a valuable asset on any starship, even if none of Starfleet command thought so. It just made sense. Sokka hadn’t expected to get a best friend out of the whole thing, but it is always nice when a plan comes together.</p><p class="p2">The- uh. Whole. Falling in love with Zuko thing. That’s not something he planned for. Normally, Sokka has a more... straightforward approach to relationships, and discovering he has feelings for his friends. He'd had a whole timeline planned out, for determining whether Zuko reciprocated, and he'd been on step four when fucking <em>Cazsar</em> happened.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Fucking Cazsar.</em>
</p><p class="p2">It’s all just so… complicated. It’s a problem Sokka can’t think through, and he fucking hates those.</p><p class="p2">So he’s been working a lot. And he’s stopped leaving his quarters when he’s not on the clock, terrified he’ll run into Zuko. It’s fine. It’s all fine. He just needs to figure out a plan of action, and execute it, and then life will return to normal.</p><p class="p2">Until then, he’s going to double the output of their Ullage thrusters if it fucking kills him.</p><p class="p2">He leans over his table, inspecting the suspension of his latest tester hypergolic monopropellant. Maybe the trick is to sacrifice shelf life for specific impulse ability? But wouldn’t that require a reconfiguration at the sub-atomic level…?</p><p class="p2">The door opens with a quiet whish, and Zuko, less quietly, bursts into Sokka’s workshop.</p><p class="p2">“Sokka, I-” He manages as the door closes behind him, before doubling over, hacking up a lung.</p><p class="p2">As Zuko coughs and wheezes, Sokka’s body tenses on reflex, ready for action. He listens for the alarms, and hears nothing. He hasn’t been commed, and when he glances at his PADD he hasn’t received anything new from Katara since her last messages brainstorming a way to get Toph and the hot girl from engineering together.</p><p class="p2">“Uh, hey Zuko.” Sokka says, as the man coughs in front of him. Zuko doesn’t look panicked, more… determined, and a little confused. “Is… there some kind of emergency happening only you know about?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko continues wheezing, but shakes his head.</p><p class="p2">“Okay.” Sokka nods, slowly, setting the mechanism he’d been working with aside. “But you… ran here.”</p><p class="p2">“I- Zuko wheezes. “Had to.” Wheeze. “Talk to you.”</p><p class="p2">“You <em>ran</em> to talk to me.” Sokka raises an eyebrow. “You do know we’re both stuck on this ship for another three and a half years, right? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”</p><p class="p2">“I just-” Zuko’s face is turning red, either from the lack of oxygen or frustration. “Was talking to Aang, and-” Actually, probably both. He takes a deep, choked off inhale. “Why can’t I <em>breathe?!”</em></p><p class="p2">“Oh, I keep the oxygen levels really low in here when I’m working with Gronerium compound 3983, the ignition rate on this bad boy is <em>insane</em>.” Sokka taps at the little bar resting under his nose, that’s currently providing him with enough oxygen to stay upright. “And there have uh. Been some incidents.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko raises an eyebrow, mid-wheeze. He only has the one, so it carries the burden of expressing all the disdain and irritation Zuko feels on a regular basis. It’s a shockingly good communicator, that eyebrow.</p><p class="p2">Sokka takes pity on Zuko, then; even if he doesn’t want to have whatever conversation Zuko’s <em>run</em> here for, it’s not really fair to render Zuko physically incapable of doing so. Or kill him.</p><p class="p2">Sokka taps at the holo screen, and the Gronerium compound 3983 is safely tucked back into containment. “Oxygen levels to normal.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka takes his nose implant out, and sets it down on the table as Zuko gratefully gulps in the air that’s flowing through the workshop.</p><p class="p2">“This is- shit.” Zuko visibly steels himself, when his breathing has returned to something approaching normal. “You couldn’t make this easy for me, could you?”</p><p class="p2">“Make… what easy?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko straightens, a determined look on his face. “I need to tell you something.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka nods. “Okay, shoot.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko stares at him for a moment, opens his mouth and closes it again. He takes a visibly deep breath, and lets it out. Then- “Um, my. My father father hated me, basically from birth?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka blinks. Not… what he was expecting. “I’m sorry?”</p><p class="p2">“Uh, yeah, so. My grandfather told him to kill me, and my mom killed him instead, and then just… left. Or maybe my father killed her, I don’t know. And every year Azula- my sister- became more like him. And then she started trying to kill me. Which- um, yeah, you know that.” Zuko fidgets, wringing his fingers in his hands. He takes a deep breath. “But my father gave me this.” Zuko says, hand coming up to touch the skin under his scar. “He was the captain whose authority I questioned.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Sokka says, dazedly. “Zuko, I’m so sorry.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s eyes flick up to Sokka’s, then search his face. “…but you don’t seem surprised.”</p><p class="p2">“Uh.” Sokka clears his throat. “In the cave, on Marus IV, you… had a nightmare? You kind of. Talk in your sleep.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Zuko blinks, obviously processing that information. “Well, I just… wanted you to know. I’m not… <em>great</em> at letting people in, but I just. I trust you Sokka. And I want to be able to tell you the truth about me, so I. Yeah. I just wanted you to know.”</p><p class="p2">“Right.” Sokka stares back at him. “Well… thank you for trusting me.” He smiles, awkwardly. “Uh. Ditto.”</p><p class="p2">“…right.” Zuko echoes. “Well, I guess, um. I should… leave you to your work?”</p><p class="p2">“Sure?”</p><p class="p2">“Right, okay. I’ll… see you later?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka gives a little wave, and watches as Zuko walks out of his workshop, the door closing behind him with a little ‘whish’.</p><p class="p2">With a heavy thud, Sokka drops his head down on his worktable. “What the <em>fuck</em>.” He whispers, into the cool surface.</p><p class="p2">Sokka is… very glad Zuko trusts him. But running across a starship just to drop the metaphorical bomb about his piece of shit father is… <em>bizarre</em>, even for Zuko.</p><p class="p2">Another whish sounds, and Sokka jerks up, trying to at least pretend to be a professional, in case it’s an ensign.</p><p class="p2">But of course, it’s Zuko again, still looking partially committed to a nervous breakdown.</p><p class="p2">He stands in the threshold, as the door shuts behind him. “Okay, that’s not actually what I came here to tell you.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Sokka manages to say.</p><p class="p2">Zuko nods, a little shakily, and steps forward, visibly hyping himself up to something. “See the thing is,” He takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with you.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka blinks, slowly. “Right.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko nods, again. “Right, and-” He blinks, once, then recoils, eyes focusing directly into Sokka’s. “Wait, what?”</p><p class="p2">“What?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko stares at him, with a sort of mania creeping into his expression. His right eye has started twitching, just slightly. “Did you… know <em>that</em>, too?<em>”</em></p><p class="p2">Sokka’s never felt more confused in his life. “…yeah?” He takes a careful step forward, like he’s approaching a skittish animal. “Of course I did?”</p><p class="p2">“But- you- <em>why</em>- wh- <em>you?”</em> Zuko stammers, gaping at him. “What the <em>fuck</em> do you mean, <em>of course you did.”</em></p><p class="p2">Sokka thought Katara would’ve bothered to warn him if the sedative she gave Zuko induced memory loss, but apparently, that’s asking too much of his sister. Sokka takes a deep breath, and patiently reminds him, “Zuko, we were ceremonially married by telepaths, remember?” He says, slowly, gently. “On Cazsar?”</p><p class="p2">And just like that, the look in Zuko’s eyes crosses over to mania. He looks like <em>he </em>might have a dangerously fast ignition rate. “Oh, those six eyed <em>bastards</em>- they <em>told you?!”</em></p><p class="p2">“Zuko, try to remember, okay?” Sokka says, voice soft. He’s reached Zuko at this point, and places a gentle hand on his arm. “The river, the swirling lights? And then they started the ritual singing, out loud and in our heads, and projected memories and feelings from your mind into mine, and from mine into yours?”</p><p class="p2">It takes a second, for that one to sink in. Sokka watches Zuko’s face, shock-still, until the moment his words register, and Zuko gives a full-body flinch.</p><p class="p2">“Memories and feelings are you fucking <em>kidding me</em>.” Zuko growls. “I didn’t get any fucking <em>memories and feelings</em>, I saw some- vague images, I guess, I just thought I was thinking about the time we’d spent together because some alien lunatics were trying to marry us!” His eyes focus on Sokka again. “Are you seriously telling me I got <em>that</em> and they <em>showed you I was in love with you?!”</em></p><p class="p2">“Uh, yeah? You really didn’t get any of it?” Sokka asks. “You didn’t just forget?</p><p class="p2">“I got some half-memories and a fucking headache behind my left eye.” Zuko grits out. “That’s it.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka glances at Zuko’s left side. “Your…” It clicks. Sokka’s hands drift, away from Zuko’s arms, to his own temple. “Oh, fuck, of <em>course.</em> Zuko, their whole cultural identity is built around <em>image-based</em> <em>telepathy</em>, and their planet <em>sings!</em> I mean, they have six eyes and no mouths!” He laughs, as his brain takes the theory and runs with it. “Maybe it’s not even telepathy as we traditionally define it, maybe it’s like- their telepathy just exists on an intersection of the visible light spectrum and an extremely low sound frequency, and the conditions of the ceremony enhanced their abilities! They were trying to give us a <em>gift</em> of the memories of our love for each other, before they married us, but with the damage to the hearing and vision on your left side, it came through distorted, and you didn’t get the full transmission!”</p><p class="p2">Sokka glances at Zuko for a second, partially registers the abject shock and confusion on his face. “Wow, I mean- visual and sonic based telepathy? The Cazsarians might be the key to scientifically understanding the inherent nature of telepathic abilities, I’m <em>so</em> glad we managed to l-”</p><p class="p2">“Sokka.” Zuko interrupts, still staring at him. “<em>Seriously</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“Oh.” Sokka stills. “Right, yeah, sorry.” Sokka shakes himself back to the matter at hand, then tilts his head. “You really didn’t know I knew?”</p><p class="p2">The manic glint starts to seep back in to Zuko’s eyes. “You could’ve <em>told me</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“I thought you knew!” Sokka cries, defensively. “How was <em>I </em>supposed to know telepathically transmitted memories didn’t work on you?” He considers it. “And- <em>and!</em> I <em>tried</em> to talk to you about it afterwards! Like, okay, sorry I don’t exactly have a ton of experience with the ‘aliens gave me and my best friend each others memories of falling in love with one another as a wedding present’ talk, but fuck, I <em>tried</em>. You were the one who shot me down so I figured you just. I don’t know, knew how I felt, knew I knew how <em>you</em> felt, and… just didn’t actually want anything from me? And it wasn't, y'know, <em>great</em>, but I just kinda hoped if I gave you space you'd eventually come around?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko blinks, long and slow. His eyes have a funny glazed look to them, like he isn’t actually listening to a word Sokka’s been saying. Zuko blinks again, meeting his eyes. “Sokka… you’ve known for <em>three months</em>.”</p><p class="p2">“Well yeah?” He shrugs. “But it’s really none of my business, since you didn’t <em>choose</em> to tell me.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko, wordlessly, falls back into Sokka's workchair, the weight of realisation in his every movement, resting his chin atop his overlocked fingers. A solid minute passes, before he blinks, and looks back up at Sokka. “Wait- did you say falling in love with one <em>another?” </em>He stares at him. “As in… you too?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka stares back; whatever’s going on with Zuko, he’s obviously not thinking clearly, so Sokka, in a tone more gentle than he’s <em>ever</em> used with Zuko, answers, “Zuko. A telepath read your mind and decided to gift you with a marriage to the love of your life. Did you honestly not think a single mind-reading alien bothered to double check that I <em>reciprocated </em>before they married us in their sacred river?”</p><p class="p2">The look on Zuko’s face very clearly says that he did not. “So. So you’re-”</p><p class="p2">“In love with you, dumbass.” Sokka rolls his eyes, fond. “I thought you <em>knew</em>.”</p><p class="p4">Zuko stares at him, opens his mouth, closes it again. “When did I realise I was in love with you?”</p><p class="p2">“Excuse me?” Sokka startles, caught off guard.</p><p class="p2">Zuko's brow furrows, eyes distant. “This is just- a lot to take in? I think proof that you’re not just fucking with me might help.”</p><p class="p2">“Seriously. I mean, this’d be a pretty fucking elaborate prank with absolutely zero payoff, wouldn't it?” Sokka says, then groans, when Zuko just raises his eyebrow, expectant. “<em>Ugh</em>, fine, I don’t know, it just… feels really personal?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s eyes narrow. “It’s <em>my</em> memory, Sokka!”</p><p class="p2">Lifting his hands placatingly, Sokka says, “Sorry, right, you’re right.” He inhales. Obviously, Zuko’s… having some difficulties, but Sokka can’t help the smile that spreads through his face as he thinks about it. “We were on Heva VIII? The stationmaster there had an eight year old kid- loneliest kid I’ve ever met- I was teaching him how to play m-”</p><p class="p2">He’s cut off, then, by a loud groan from Zuko as he lets his face fall down into his hands. Zuko starts letting out a string of muffled curses; Sokka just <em>barely</em> manages to make out ‘<em>six eyed, motherfucking</em>’ and ‘<em>stupid shitty flowers’.</em></p><p class="p2">Sokka slowly approaches him, leans his back against the table next to Zuko’s seat. He lets Zuko mutter to himself for a while, before clearing his throat. “Um, if it helps, Enara Prime.”</p><p class="p2">“…what about it.” Zuko grunts, into his palms.</p><p class="p2">“That’s the memory you would’ve gotten from me. When we went on that away mission together; it’s when I realised.”</p><p class="p2">It takes a second, but Zuko looks up at him, brow furrowed. “I can’t remember what I did on Enara Prime.”</p><p class="p2">“Nothing, really.” Sokka says, truthfully, with a shrug. “Smiled at me.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko’s breath catches, on an inhale. His cheeks flush red as his expression flickers through a series of unidentifiable emotions, soft pink lips parted in surprise.</p><p class="p2">But then he groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his eye like the entire galaxy is conspiring to inconvenience him, personally. “This isn’t… at <em>all</em> how I expected this to go.”</p><p class="p2">“I know.” Sokka says, looking down at him. “And I’m sorry that aliens told me you loved me before you got a chance to. But, I dunno, think of it this way- best case scenario, how were you hoping I’d respond, when you came in here and told me?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko sighs, the hand rubbing at his eye dragging across his forehead, and coming to rest at his temple as he leans the weight of his head on it. “I… <em>ugh.</em>” He looks away from Sokka, eyes staring at the floor. “I was hoping you’d say you loved me, too.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka sinks to his knees in front of Zuko, so their faces are level. He leans forward. “Okay, well, I’ve already done that.” He teases gently, with a smile. “So, anything else?”</p><p class="p2">Zuko shuts his eyes, and mutters, “And kiss me.” like it physically pains him.</p><p class="p2">Sokka reaches out with one hand, pokes the arm that’s propping up Zuko’s head. “So <em>maybe</em>, we forget about alien telepathy and three months of wasted time, and we just skip to the good part?”</p><p class="p2">“I’m not sure if I <em>can</em>.” Zuko groans, leaning backwards, head tilted back towards the ceiling. “I keep trying to reassure myself that you love me back, and then I start thinking about everything you must’ve seen, and I’m so embarrassed I want to chuck myself out the airlock.”</p><p class="p2">Sokka chuckles. “Don’t be. Honestly it was… like you were telling me all the ways, and reasons you loved me. All the moments you loved me most, the way I looked through your eyes- I think, objectively, it was the most romantic confession anyone could ever hope to get, and you didn’t even have to say it out loud. That’s pretty cool, right?” Zuko makes a noncommittal noise, aimed at the ceiling, and Sokka sighs, shifting his weight upward and bracing a hand on either of Zuko’s legs. “Zuko, look at me.” Zuko makes a reluctant noise before slowly dropping his head down and Sokka tactfully doesn’t comment, but will be remembering this moment the next time Zuko tries to call <em>him</em> stubborn. “I <em>promise</em>, I will tell you everything they showed me, every single memory and feeling I got, and any and all of my equivalent memories of you, if you will just cut the shit and kiss me, like we have- <em>both</em>- wanted you to do since the first night we met. You still do, right?”</p><p class="p2">"Of course I-" Zuko makes a pained expression. “You’re sure you still want me to kiss <em>you?</em> Even after- everything?”</p><p class="p2">Sokka takes a long, deep breath, and thinks the problem through. After a moment, having mentally decided, he tilts his head, schooling his features in concern. “Shit, I didn’t even ask, are the oxygen levels okay in here now?”</p><p class="p2">The question takes Zuko by surprise, as evidenced by the way the reluctance in his eyes gives way to confusion. “I- yeah, they’re fine?”</p><p class="p2">“You sure?” Sokka leans in. “You got your breath back alright?”</p><p class="p2">The confused lines in Zuko’s brow deepen. “…yes?”</p><p class="p2">“Good.” Sokka wraps his hand around the back of Zuko’s neck. “Because I’m about to take it away.”</p><p class="p2">Zuko groans, immediately and exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes at the line. But he chuckles at the end of it, even as Sokka finally- <em>finally</em>- slots their mouths together.</p><p class="p2">It’s a lot of Sokka’s favourite kinds of kisses at once.</p><p class="p2">It’s a kiss where Sokka gets to swallow the laughter of someone he loves, feel his smile against Sokka’s lips. It’s a first kiss, it’s a promise of thousands, millions more to come. It’s a kiss that tells Sokka he’s wanted, exactly for who he is. It’s an imperfect kiss; his knees are starting to feel sore from the hard workshop floor, and the angle Zuko’s bent in can’t be comfortable, but<span class="Apple-converted-space"> none of the little details matter, because all either of them care about is the feeling of lips against theirs.<br/>
</span></p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Zuko gives this full-body sigh of relief, and contentment, like he wants to sink into Sokka's touch and never leave it. Sokka's hearbeat kick starts and he inhales through his nose like it's the last breath he'll ever take, pushes up into Zuko, his whole body following the motion as he tries to meet Zuko halfway, press their bodies flush together, position be damned.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">The kiss deepens, and it's like fighting Zuko, all over again, but a hundred times better. Still, there's that adrenaline rush, that need to feel Zuko's touch on every inch of him, that inescapable, gut feeling that they're uniquely suited to be doing this, together. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">For a second, Zuko obviously forgets that he's balanced on a chair in front of Sokka and almost falls out of it as he tries to press further into Sokka's space. He steadies himself without breaking the kiss, but it does have Sokka chuckling out a laugh against his lips.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Zuko, undeterred, uses the opening to lick into Sokka's mouth, and the laughter chokes off into something like a strangled moan.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Sokka's hand grips Zuko's hip, Zuko's arm is around Sokka's shoulders, and both of them press against each other, trying for more contact, but the position isn't exactly conducive.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Finally, Sokka pulls away, watches the way Zuko's mouth follows his for a moment, before his eyes slowly open. Sokka, first to regain higher cognitive function, holds up his index finger and rests it against Zuko's lips. Zuko stops mid-motion, lips still parted, eyelashes fluttering prettily as he glances down, towards his own mouth and the finger pressed against it. His tongue flicks against Sokka's skin, followed by the gently maddening drag of his kiss-swollen bottom lip.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="Apple-converted-space">"<em>Fuck</em>, okay- just- one sec, fuck."</span> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> Sokka says, with more restraint than he thought he posessed, moving his hand out of the way so he can peck Zuko's lips quickly, before jumps to his feet. He gestures, one-handed, at Zuko. "Stand up?"</span></p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Zuko's eyebrow is at it again, and the general expression on his face is one of confused resignation. His hair, usually so perfectly pulled into its regulation ponytail, is mussed, soft, endlessly touchable strands ghosting around his face. His lips and cheeks are flushed pink, and his breath is coming out in erratic bursts. He's the most beautiful fucking thing Sokka's ever seen, and Sokka lives in <em>space.</em> He resists the urge to say that, though, because then he'll have to kiss Zuko again, and he'll get distracted and forget all about his plan.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space"> He gestures for Zuko to stand again, and Zuko rolls his eyes, but complies. When he gets to his feet, looking up at Sokka from under dark, thick eyelashes, Zuko moves to lean back in, and Sokka presses a hand to his chest. "Nope, just- hold that thought for <em>one</em> more second." Sokka turns, presses the buttons against his worktable to deactivate its touchscreen capacities, looks back at Zuko, eyes categorising the length of him, and adjusts the table's height, lowering it 6.5 centimetres. Sokka looks at Zuko, and pats the table's surface. "Sit?"</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Zuko rolls his eyes again, but does as he's told, and sits, legs hanging over the edge of the table. He's got this wonderful smile, soft and endeared, that Sokka can't wait to kiss.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">"Door lock, authorisation sierra-india-two-six-delta." Sokka says, stepping closer to Zuko as he hears the quiet click of the computer locking the door to his workshop. "Lights to fifteen percent, shuffle playlist..." He considers it, for a second. "Forty-seven, to volume level five." The lights dim, and a slow crooning fills the air.</span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="Apple-converted-space">He steps, into the space between Zuko's legs. </span> <span class="Apple-converted-space">"This sounds like classical music." Zuko smiles at him softly. "Didn't know you were such a romantic."<br/>
</span></p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Sokka blinks. "Wait, you don't recognise this song?"</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">"Should I?"</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">"It's Sam Cooke.<em>" </em>Sokka says, waiting for a look of recognition on Zuko's face that never comes. "Seriously? <em>Sam Cooke?</em> One of the most well-known artists of the 20th century, widely considered the <em>most</em> influential soul artist of all time, the k-" The 6.5 centimetres had been an attempt to put Zuko and Sokka's faces at the same level, that apparently worked too well, because it's much too easy for Zuko to roll his eyes and lean forward, shutting Sokka up with a kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">It's slow, and soft, and Sokka can feel the heat of Zuko's tongue, giving the smallest of brushes against his lips. Zuko breaks the kiss agonisingly slowly, teeth tugging, just slightly, on Sokka's bottom lip as he goes. Sokka blinks, slowly, out of the full body haze. "...or I could give you a music history lesson later."</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">"See? What'd I tell you." Zuko grins, pulling him closer. "Genius."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>special thanks to seb, aka <a href="https://sebsketchs.tumblr.com/"><span class="s1">sebsketchs</span></a> on tumblr, who just wanted a ficlet to go along with her star trek zukka art and got this monstrosity instead, thanks specifically for coming up with the idea of aang being a trill</p><p>i started thinking about star trek zukka, then i started thinking about the possibilities of sokka with access to 23rd century technology, and i got too excited to keep this short</p><p>the 'classical music' is a ref to the scene in star trek beyond, but beastie boy's don't Quite set the mood, so i switched it up a little</p><p>re: last names! sokka and katara's, imikkâninuiaat, comes from the inuit words for 'south', 'water' and 'people' (according to the internet), blended together. and yojin, according to the internet, translates to aftereffects, embers, or smouldering fire, so i thought it'd be fitting for zuko to adopt once he joins the federation. if i've gotten anything wrong please let me know!</p><p>oh, and "Qul’dIr" is klingon for fire nation</p><p>this fic is a dizzying combination of meticulously researched star trek lore (each class mentioned is actually on the starfleet academy core curriculum as listed in FASA’s Star Trek: The Next Generation Officer’s Manual (1988), for example) and me making up planet names as i go, and if you're a doctor or mathematician and any of the shit i wrote doesn't make a bit of fucking sense, have mercy. i tried. i learned what smooth infinitesimal analysis is. i am not a math person, and my head still hurts from reading about the real-life physics implications and limitations of star trek transporters. i did my best</p><p>oh! and i blatantly stole the parameters and results of aang's final exam from the starfleet academy comics, i was reading them as research for this fic and the scene was just. so good for aang. i couldn't not add it in</p><p>anyway i'm too tired to reliably edit this anymore, but i reserve the rights to make changes later lol</p><p>as always, dameferre on tumblr, come talk to me about anything but smooth infinitesimal analysis</p><p>live long and prosper 🖖🏽</p></blockquote></div></div>
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